


the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Dubious Ethics, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Neither Harry nor Louis cheat on each other, Relationship Problems, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23282026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Sex therapy?” Louis asks, cocking an eyebrow.To his credit, the doctor doesn’t blush, “An extremely personal and efficient form of therapy, Mr. Tomlinson.”“Oh?”“Should you and your husband wish to, I would be eager to help you in any way I can offer.”
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Henry Cavill/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 29
Kudos: 191





	the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a week and it hasn't been edited at ALL.  
> Also i wrote this for roya and liz bc they're loyal bitches and stuck by me and let me send them snippets at 4am every day. 
> 
> title is from Cherry Wine by Hozier

“Do counseling,” they said. “It’ll be good for you,” they said. Louis looks down at the ring on his fingers, then to the man sitting beside him and scoffs. 

_Bullshit_. The only thing marriage counseling was good for was making you feel bad about your decision to jump into an impulsive marriage based on unrealistic teenage dreams and ambitions at an impressionable age. 

“Is there something you want to say, Louis?” Their counselor, Mary, asks him. The pen she holds tightly in her grip is poised above her notepad, as always. He holds back a sneer. Louis doesn’t have anything against Mary personally, but her eagerness to note down everything they say got on his nerves after their first session. 

He spares a glance beside him again and crosses one leg over the other, “No, nothing.” 

Mary doesn’t say anything, just makes a note on her cursed notepad, nodding. 

When she’s done, she leans forward a bit, her loose blouse falling forward and showing off her cleavage. Louis holds back a snort, leaning back into the uncomfortable chair beneath him. Her eyes flicker over to Louis before settling back on his husband, “What about you, Harry? If there’s anything you want to add,” she asks him, her voice taking on a breathy quality, “Please feel free to do so.” 

Harry clears his throat and Louis can feel his eyes on him. He refuses to look back at him, eyes set stubbornly on the ugliest picture of a lake hanging on the wall behind the large desk.

“Um,” Harry stutters at first but his voice picks up by the end, taking on his usual cocky tone, “N-no, I think we’ve said everything that needs to be said for now.” 

In his periphery, Louis can see Mary bite her painted lips. She sets her notepad down for the first time this session and places both hands beneath her chin, “I think there’s always more that could be said,” she insists.

Louis blows out a deep breath, watching the air ruffle his fringe and turns towards her with a poison smile, “I think we’ll end it here,” he says, grabbing his coat. 

Her eyes snap to him, her smile faltering. Harry watches him, too. Not bothering to look to his husband for guidance, Louis slips on his jacket and walks towards the door, “Don’t bother giving us any homework,” he tells her, “We won’t be coming back.” 

“Louis,” Harry tries, reaching out a hand to stop him as he strides past him. 

Louis ignores him and walks through the doorway, slamming the large oak door shut behind him. He stops by the receptionist’s desk and waits for the bill, tapping his foot impatiently. 

By the time he’s slid over their shared credit card, Harry is coming out of the room, his cheeks flushed. Louis lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes, turning back to the receptionist. His husband makes his way towards Louis quickly, his eyes dark. 

A tight grip around his bicep causes Louis to turn with a curse, his eyes cutting up to glare at Harry, “What?” he hisses, trying to pull his arm free. 

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Harry whispers back at him, careful to keep his voice low. 

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Louis counters, tilting his head with a raise of an eyebrow, “She was about two seconds away from crawling into your lap.” 

“So you had a tantrum? That’s no excuse to act like a child,” Harry tightens his grip around his arm before letting go, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair, “Besides, it’s not like anything would have happened.” 

Louis just huffs out a bitter laugh, looking away from his husband, “That’s not the fucking point, Harry.” 

“Then, wh-” 

His question is interrupted when the receptionist comes back with the receipt and paperwork, a false smile pasted onto his face instead. Louis scowls down at the numbers on the page as Harry thanks the young woman and leads Louis out of the office with a firm hand at the base of his spine. 

They make their way silently through the building and across the parking lot towards their car, the air between them thick with mounting tension. Harry leans over and opens the Range Rover door for Louis before making his way around and getting in the driver’s seat.

The car doors close and the air explodes. 

“I can’t fucking believe you acted like a fucking child in front of our marriage counselor,” Harry points a finger at him, his voice raised. 

“Don’t _fucking_ yell at me,” Louis shouts back, slapping Harry’s waving finger out of the way, “If there’s one thing I demand from a marriage counselor, it’s _respect_.” 

“Mary was perfectly respectable!” He defends her. 

Louis laughs loudly, the sound bitter and cloying, “The only thing she respected was your cock, Harry.” 

“You- What the fuck are you talking about?” Harry recoils, “You’re making shit up just so you can excuse your bratty behaviour.” 

“Oh, my God,” Louis groans and turns away towards the window, done with the argument. If Harry wasn’t going to believe him, there was no point in trying to convince him. The man was as dense as a brick wall, sometimes. “Just drive, Harry.” 

“No,” Harry says, “I want to know what you meant.” 

“You’re not going to believe me,” Louis reminds him, his voice tired.

“Louis, you’re being fucking ridiculous,” he continues, “She’s our marriage counselor, her entire career is staked on our marriage working out. Why the hell would she risk that just to sleep with me?” 

“You really don’t get it,” he turns in his seat to meet Harry’s eyes, “Do you?” 

“I _really_ don’t,” Harry agrees. 

“You’re so oblivious, Harry,” he tells his husband, the fire in his chest burning, “You’re so fucking self-centered, you never pay attention to anyone around you.” 

“Oh, so it’s my fault now, is it?” Harry’s voice gets louder in the small space and he seems to puff up, his body taking up more room in his seat, “If I’m so narcissistic, why do you stay with me? Huh, Louis? What’s keeping you here?”

“Because I fucking love you, you absolute asshole!” Louis screams at him. 

“Oh, come on, beauty. There must be another reason,” Harry tells him with a dark smirk, “Because I know that’s absolute bullshit.” 

Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes, “You just want to hear me talk about how huge your cock is.” 

“And what’s wrong with that?” His voice is deeper suddenly, closer and pulling with a familiar dark rasp that has shivers dancing across Louis’ skin, “That’s the only thing that’ll get you talking lately, it seems.” 

That gets his attention.

“Are you seriously trying to fuck me right now?” Louis asks him incredulously. The sky is dark and the parking lot around them is empty, apart from the few employees who have decided to stay late. “Right after accusing me of lying and behaving like a child? Really, Harry?” 

Louis watches as Harry runs a large hand along his thigh, wrapping his palm around the bulge in his pants.

“Come on, baby,” he coerces him, thrusting into his own hold. Louis’ mouth goes dry, his gaze locked on the growing tent in Harry’s crotch, “Need to teach you a lesson, don’t you agree?” 

“You’re a neanderthal,” Louis tells him. 

“Yeah, but you want to fuck me,” Harry responds. His voice is getting deeper and slower. He reaches down and pulls the seat lever, sliding backward in the car to make room. 

Louis sits there for a minute, watching as Harry works himself up. A bead of sweat rolls down his back as the air inside the car heats up. 

“I can’t believe you,” Louis finally says, climbing over the center console and throwing a leg over Harry to straddle his lap. He hands pressed firmly against his chest and digs his nails in, making him flinch slightly. 

Harry reaches down and pulls another handle, the seat suddenly falling back into a horizontal position and making them bounce slightly. His other hand curves over Louis’ thigh and fits itself around his waist. 

“Knew you’d see sense,” he murmurs, eyes lidded.

Louis sits up and adjusts himself on Harry’s lap, putting pressure against his cock and pulling out a groan from the back of his husband’s throat.

“I’m not seeing much of anything right now,” he nods his head in Harry’s direction, who gives him a quick quirk of an eyebrow before shifting and sitting up. 

He quickly shrugs off his shirt, the top half already having been unbuttoned, throwing it in the backseat, “Your turn,” he says with a smirk. 

Louis crosses his arms across his body, grabbing onto the bottom of his shirt and pulling it off slowly, teasing. He rolls his hips as he brings the shirt over his head, grinding against Harry.

“Fuck you,” he bends down and whispers against Harry’s lips, “Don’t tell me what to do.” 

Harry chuckles, Louis feeling it more than hearing it, “But that’s what you like best, baby.” 

He grabs Louis’ waist and quickly spins them over so that Louis lies beneath him, splayed on the driver’s seat with Harry slotted between his legs. He runs his hands along Louis’ thighs, possessive and claiming, “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” 

Louis groans at the pun and debates not opening his legs for Harry. The insistent petting along his hips and ass convince otherwise, and he eventually spreads his thighs, letting Harry into his most intimate space. 

“That’s it,” Harry soothes him or attempts to at least. Louis just glares at him and clamps his thighs around his hips, pulling Harry in further. 

“Hurry up,” Louis demands, “We have to go home and feed Butterscotch.” 

“Please don’t talk about our cat when I’m about to get my dick wet,” Harry complains, undoing his jeans and pushing them below his ass. 

Louis snorts at his eloquence, “Real romantic, Casanova.” 

“Not exactly aiming for romance here,” Harry says with a shrug, slipping Louis’ pants off of his hips and down over his feet, adding them to the growing pile of clothes in the backseat. Louis bites his lip to hold back a snarky comment, closing his eyes instead and focusing on the sensation of Harry’s tongue on his neck and fingers on his inner thighs. 

The press of the first few fingers against his hole is perfunctory and almost impersonal. His dick is still hard, of course, because Harry’s body is hot and heavy above his and the lips against his neck are wet and the air is heavy with the smell of sex, but the feeling of cold fingers prodding at his hole sends a different kind of shiver running down his spine. 

Automatically, his hands push against Harry’s chest, “Wait,” slips out unbidden. 

Harry pulls back right away, eyes looking over Louis, “What? What’s wrong?” 

“I just,” he stops, “Kiss me. Please.” 

Harry raises an eyebrow but gives in, bending over to brush his lips against Louis’. Louis pushes up, pressing their lips together harder. He wraps an arm around Harry’s neck, the other holding onto his shoulder. 

Getting into it, Harry takes control of the kiss, pushing Louis down into the seat beneath him and looming over him, licking into his mouth and swallowing his moans. Louis’ body slowly relaxes and he starts to roll his hips back against Harry’s fingers. 

“Okay?” Harry asks, an unfamiliar tone to his voice. Louis nods, his breathing heavy and cheeks flushed. Harry nods back, mumbling something under his breath. Louis thinks it sounds like “Finally,” but he keeps his mouth shut. 

Grabbing a condom from the center console, Harry rips open the packet with his teeth, rolling it onto his cock quickly and stroking himself a few times with the rest of the lube packet. 

“You shouldn’t keep those here,” Lous reminds him. 

“I really don’t need to hear your nagging right now, Louis,” Louis chokes slightly on the breath he’d taken to respond, eyes squeezing shut as Harry’s cock pushes its way into his smaller body. 

Taking no time to let Louis adjust to his impressive length, Harry draws back and thrusts forward. Louis is hitched higher on the seat, a litany of _uh, uh, uh’s_ falling from his lips as Harry continues to piston his hips in and out of Louis’ body. 

“Harder,” Louis demands, his hands wrapping around the headrest behind him, “ _Fuck_ , give me more.” 

“You want more, baby?” Harry pants into his ear, his warm breath wet and humid in the steamy car. Louis nods, a whine slipping past his lips when Harry picks up the pace, his thighs slapping against Louis’ ass. Louis pants out a “ _yes_ ” and throws his head back in pleasure. 

One of his legs is grabbed and thrown over Harry’s shoulder, the new angle allowing Harry’s cock to brush against his prostate every few seconds. Louis howls out when the head of his cock hits the bundle of nerves directly, sending sparks up and down his entire body. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” his voice is high and breathy to his own ears, “Harry!” 

Harry’s hand snakes down the length of his body, not stopping until he reaches Louis’ ass. He gives the plump cheeks a few slaps before dropping his fingers to the crease, gliding his fingertips along the sweaty skin and prodding at the place where their bodies meet. 

From behind glassy, lidded eyes, Louis watches him pull his hand back only to suck his finger into his mouth, coating it in saliva. He then brings the fingers up to Louis’ mouth, pushing it between his slack jaws. 

“Get them nice and wet for me, baby,” he orders him, voice dark. 

Louis can do nothing but obey, his mind blank with pleasure. The fingers in his mouth brush along the top of his mouth and play with his tongue. When they pull out, his chin is covered in spit, his face messy and flushed. 

Harry’s eyes are hooded and his lip is caught between his teeth as he watches, “Good boy,” he praises. 

He brings his fingers back down to Louis’ ass, gliding them along his crack again before they begin to massage at the rim of his puffy hole. Louis tosses his head back at the mounting pressure against his hole as Harry presses one of his fingers into his body alongside his still-thrusting cock. 

“God, _ah_ , Harry,” Louis gasps out, curling in on himself a bit. He grabs onto Harry’s hair and pulls him in for a heated kiss. Their tongues entangle and wrestle for control as the pleasure mounts. 

Louis pulls back to choke out a moan when the second finger begins to massage his sore rim, “No,” he gasps out, “Harry, _fuck_.” 

“You know your safeword,” Harry reminds him, his voice getting gravelly and ragged the closer he climbs towards his climax. His thrusts are starting to get erratic as he chases his peak. 

Louis pulls harder on his hair, “God, I fucking hate you,” he gasps into his panting mouth. 

Harry just smirks and wraps a hand around his cock, pulling him to orgasm. Louis’ eyes squeeze shut and his mouth drops open on a keening shout as he shoots between them, coating Harry’s hand and stomach in a sticky release. 

Gasping and still reeling, he can only lay there as Harry uses his body to chase his own pleasure. His thrusts get sloppy and his hips stutter.

Chest heaving, Louis watches from beneath wet lashes as Harry’s body tenses and his hips press hard against Louis’ as he comes, his body trying to get his release as deep into Louis’ body as it can. Animalistic grunts spill from Harry’s throat and he drops his head as his body shakes with the aftershock. 

They sit there for a few minutes, their breaths echoing in the quiet. The windows are fogged up and the air is heavy with the smell of sex. 

Louis wants to cry.

He pushes against Harry’s chest, prompting him to move up and away, letting Louis return to his seat on the passenger’s side. He bends over and grabs the clothes from the backseat, wordlessly handing Harry his shirt and sliding his pants back on. 

Harry watches him the whole time with his jaw clenched. Louis doesn’t meet his eye, turning away towards the window when they’re both dressed. 

“Drive, Harry,” he clears his throat when his voice comes out noticeably thick with emotion. 

Harry scoffs, “Are you seriously-” 

“I said, drive!” he shouts, “I need to feed Butterscotch and take a _fucking_ shower.” 

Nothing. Then, “Fine.” 

“Fine.”

The car’s engine rumbles beneath them as Harry turns the key in the ignition and pulls out from the lot into the uncertain night. 

-

The clinking of knives and forks on plates fills Louis’ ears. He cuts into his fish, spearing the small bite with his fork and bringing it to his mouth. His eyes are glued to his plate as Harry sits next to him, deep in conversation with his coworkers.

He can hear them laughing and chatting, but his mind if far enough that none of their words are registering. He chews absentmindedly, stabbing at the food on his plate. His phone burns a hole in his pocket. 

A swift kick to his shin prompts him to look up across the table. 

One of the workers’ wives, Catherine, is looking at him questioningly, her head tilted to the side a bit. Louis smiles at her and shakes his head minutely, taking a sip of his wine. She gives him a small smile back but the tense look in her eyes never goes away. Her husband, Sam, wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her attention away from Louis and back to the conversation going around the table. 

Louis watches her lean into his body, the movement natural and practiced. Her hand comes up to pat at his shoulder and he lets go of her and lets her get back to her own dinner with a quick peck to the cheek. Their eyes meet again when she turns back to the table. 

Louis averts his gaze quickly, the first thing his eyes landing on being Harry next to him. 

His husband is leaning back in his chair, one ankle resting on his knee. His legs are spread and he’s taking up an obscene amount of space on their side of the table. He’s got an elbow resting against the chair’s arm and he’s holding his chin in his hand as he speaks with his coworker. The look on his face is serious and Louis watches his mouth move and his eyebrows furrow in silence, his dinner forgotten. 

Feeling eyes on him, Harry looks to Louis. He mouths, “What?”

“Nothing, sorry,” Louis whispers. His hands are tangled together beneath the tablecloth. He plays with his wedding ring, twisting it around his finger and he watches the two other couples at the table interact, no sense of unease or unhappiness in their bodies. 

“Hey, Louis.” 

Louis looks up at Catherine again. She’s leaning over the table a bit, her long, dark hair brushing along the pristine white tablecloth and almost falling into the soup she ordered. He pastes a smile onto his face automatically. The movement feels stiff and false. 

“Are you feeling okay, love?” She asks him, reaching a hand across the table towards him. 

Louis takes her hand in his own and squeezes it reassuringly, “I’m doing just fine, thanks.” 

She doesn’t look convinced but she does pull him into a conversation, chatting about her two pugs, Clara and Belle, and asks Louis about Butterscotch and his large family. 

By the end of dinner, Louis has forgotten about the fight he and Harry had had before leaving for the restaurant earlier that night. He’s smiling and laughing with Catherine and Isabella, sharing their grief of having to care for workaholic men at home. 

After they’ve all ordered their dessert course, Louis excuses himself and makes his way over to the restroom. He does his business quickly and moves to the sink to wash his hands. 

His fingers are sudsy when the door opens and Harry walks in. Mood dropping faster than a rollercoaster, Louis stares at his hands stubbornly as he rinses off the bubbles and soap. 

A tall figure stands beside him, swiping their hands beneath the tap and activating the water without a word. 

“I think you’re good,” Harry says, his voice deep and loud in the otherwise quiet room. He nods to Louis’ hands, the fingers starting to prune under the warm water. 

Louis pulls his hands back, ripping some paper from the dispenser and dries his hands. His mouth stays shut and he refuses to acknowledge the interaction. 

“Louis,” Harry says, his voice firm. The water shuts off. Louis stands in front of the trash, not moving but not speaking either, “Could you look at me, at least?” Harry asks though it’s not really a request. 

Louis clenches his jaw and turns in place, facing Harry directly for the first time since they’ve arrived at the restaurant, “Well?” he says, feigning disinterest. 

Harry sighs and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. The action raises the ends and messes up the immaculate quiff he’d spent an hour forming earlier. Louis feels a stab of vindication at the thought. 

“I’d appreciate it,” Harry says, drawing out the words painfully, “if you didn’t act as though you had a gun to your back when you looked at me.” 

Louis scoffs, “I’ve been perfectly pleasant all evening. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he makes to go to the door. He’s got one hand on the handle when a much larger hand slams against the wood next to his head, holding the door closed. 

Biting his tongue, Louis turns in place, resting his back against the door and looking up at Harry who looms above him. Harry leans in, face serious and dark. Louis can feel his heart hammering in his chest, not scared but not at ease, either. 

He curses the heat that erupts in his core at the sight of Harry in a fitted suit leaning over him. A memory of their first few weeks of dating surfaces in his mind, how Harry had pulled a similar move. The atmosphere had been very different ten years ago. _They_ were different. 

“Like fuck you have been,” Harry’s voice is deep, deeper than usual, as he tries to stay quiet, “What you’ve been is a right brat all night.” 

“How very dare you,” Louis tries to lighten the mood. Harry just stares down at him, eyes serious. Louis sobers up and looks down at their feet. He shuffles a bit in place when Harry doesn’t speak for a minute. 

Then, “I didn’t tell you this, but this dinner is the only thing standing between me and a promotion,” Louis looks up, mouth falling open in shock, “I need you to clean up your act and behave like an adult, for once.” 

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me, you asshole,” Louis slaps his shoulder in genuine frustration, “You never tell me anything!” 

“Keep your voice down,” Harry orders, a large hand wrapping around Louis’ bicep, “If you’d been paying an ounce of attention, you would have realized that my supervisor is here.” 

“He always comes over for drinks! How was I supposed to know?” Louis defends himself. He rips his arm free of Harry’s hold, massaging at his shoulder, “I get it. I’ll behave.” 

Harry just stares into his eyes, reading him. Finally, he nods and reaches behind Louis to open the door, “Fix your hair. Don’t take too long.” 

The door swings shut behind him with finality. 

_Fix your own God-damned hair!_ Louis wants to shout back. He settles for stomping his foot on the ground a few times and strangling the air in front of him. Nevertheless, he spends a few minutes at the mirror, fixing his fringe and smoothing out his sweater before opening the door and leaving the restroom. 

He’s stopped in his tracks when he sees Catherine in the hallways between the men’s and women’s rooms. She’s sitting on a settee, her elegant dress splayed around her lounging form, as she waits. She sits up when she notices him standing there. 

“Louis,” she says getting up with unprecedented grace. 

“Uh, hi?” He’s confused, “Are you waiting for someone?”

“I was, in fact,” she admits, coming nearer. Louis stops himself from taking a step back, “I heard everything.”

His heart stops in his chest and his mask slips off. 

“W-what?” he asks her. She holds both of his hands in hers and brings them up near his chest. It’s a comforting gesture but it only freezes his blood, “What do you mean?” 

“Why don’t you sit with me, hm?” Catherine nods her head back towards the settee. Numb, Louis can only follow her lead as she pulls him with her. They sit side-by-side on the chaise, her hands still enveloping his own. 

“Listen,” she starts, her voice quiet and soft in the dark hallway, “I know what you’re going through.” 

“What are you talking about, love?” Louis continues to play dumb as he lets out an uneasy laugh, “Harry and I are doing fine.” 

“I didn’t say anything about Harry, though, did I?” _Fuck._

“Please don’t say anything,” Louis pleads with her. His hand tightens around hers, fingers curling around her palms, “It doesn’t matter what’s happening between us. Not tonight.” 

“Because of the promotion,” she makes a guess, “I went through the same thing with Sam.” 

The confession shocks him because she and Sam have always looked happy, never giving of any kind of signal of distress or tension. Throughout their years of companionship, he never would have guessed that they’d even known what he words marriage trouble meant. 

“Really?” Louis asks. He can feel his eyes widen when she nods and shrugs. 

“We would fight all the time,” she confesses, “I mean, the sex was amazing, but even that’s not worth the distance and the fighting.” 

Louis nods along with her, “That’s exactly it,” he agrees, “it feels like when he started staying late at the office, he took all of the intimacy and love with him.” 

He gasps and covers his mouth, “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” 

“It’s okay, babe,” she comforts him, “Have you been to see a therapist about it? That was honestly the thing that saved our marriage.” 

Louis bites his lip and looks down, “We’ve been to three counselors so far,” he admits, “And sure, they help for a bit, but the problems always seem to resurface or something else will come up that they can’t help with.” 

Catherine gives him a sympathetic look, “I know exactly what you mean,” she pulls her purse from behind her onto her lap and looks through it until she finds her phone, pulling it out and turning it on, “Let me give you the number of this therapist. He’s amazing, I swear.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Louis hesitates. 

“I promise, Louis, your marriage will never be the same after you see this man,” she gushes, “He’s got the magic touch.” 

“I guess,” he relents slowly. His lips are dry and he flicks his tongue out to wet them, “I guess I can talk to Harry about it.” 

“Great!” she squeals, sending the text. His phone buzzes in his pocket, “You’ll see, you guys will be back to normal in no time.” 

“What’s this guy’s name, anyway?” Louis asks, pulling out his phone and checking his texts. 

He’s reading the name and credentials as Catherine says, “Dr. Henry Cavill.” 

-

“Louis Tomlinson?” 

Louis looks up from the lifestyle magazine he wasn’t reading, meeting the eyes of the receptionist, “Yes, that’s me,” he says, setting the magazine back down on the coffee table. 

She gives him a practiced smile, waving a courteous hand in the direction of the office door, “Dr. Cavill will see you know,” she tells him. Her voice is soft but does nothing to calm the nervous racing of his heart. 

“Great,” he swallows and stands up, “Thank you so much.” 

He makes his way over to the tall door, giving it a small knock before turning the golden knob. The door opens easily beneath his hand and the room behind it greets him. 

Dark woods and creams blanket the room, a large desk occupying one end and a couch and chair on the other. The walls have been transformed into large built-in bookcases and there is a large window on the opposite end of the room from where Louis stands. The sun is streaming in beams through sheer curtains, casting shadows across the floor. 

A large man sits behind the desk. 

He’s far from the old man Louis was picturing Dr. Henry Cavill to be. This man is young and broad and almost exactly Louis’ type. 

_What’s the harm in admiring something beautiful?_ Louis thinks to himself. 

The man is bent over a journal, jotting down notes at a leisurely pace. From what Louis can see, his hair is cropped near his head but long at the top and there are corkscrew curls spilling down the side of his forehead. He startles a bit when he sees Louis, shutting the journal and standing. He fixes his suit jacket and extends a hand out as he moves out from behind the desk. 

As he comes closer, Louis is forced to crane his neck upwards to maintain eye contact. If he had to guess, he’d say that the doctor was only about an inch taller than Harry. The only difference was the amount of body mass that the doctor had, his shoulders broader, his chest more muscular and his biceps bigger than Harry’s. 

Louis licks his lips and takes a deep breath.

“My apologies,” the man says. His voice is disturbingly deep and raspy in the quiet room, “I got a bit engrossed in my work,” he chuckles, rubbing a hand against the back of his head. 

“No worries,” Louis waves him off, taking his hand. The doctor’s hand completely engulfs his own. The rough, callused skin sends shivers up his arm, “I’m Louis Tomlinson.” 

“Yes, yes, of course,” the man takes his hand back and gestures to the cozy-looking sitting area in the corner, “please feel free to take a seat, Louis.” 

He does, sitting on the edge of the couch closest to the extra chair where he assumes the Doctor will sit. He’s surprised when the man sits down next to him on the couch, leaning back slightly on the arm and turns to face Louis. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says with a smile. His teeth are slightly crooked but white and gleaming. Louis just shakes his head. 

“Alright, well, I guess we can start now,” he starts after a bout of silence, “My name’s Henry Cavill. I’m a therapist that specializes in interpersonal relationships, be it family, marriage, or personal. My methods are often hailed as unconventional, as you can already see,” he gestures to the small space between them. 

“Yeah, my friend told me that you were unlike any therapist she’d been to before,” Louis tells him, “I wasn’t sure what she meant until now.” 

Henry throws his head back and laughs, “That’s one way to put it, I suppose.” 

He has dimples. Of course, he has dimples.

Louis laughs quietly with him then apologizes, “I’m sorry my husband couldn’t make it, he was busy at work.” 

Waving him off, the doctor leans forward in his seat, “Can I let you in on a secret?” he asks. Louis nods once, curious, “I actually prefer to do some of these sessions one-on-one, especially at first.” 

“Really?” Louis wonders, “All of our previous therapists insisted on both of us being at every appointment.” 

“Yes, well, I guess that’s why they call me unconventional.” 

“So, how does this work then? If we aren’t going to be shouting at each other under supervision rather than at home,” Louis asks him, only half-joking. Henry gives him a loud laugh, either not catching onto his tone or simply wanting to make him more comfortable. 

“I like to work in sessions of seven, two individual sessions each and then three as a group. And of course, this is just a consultation and won’t count towards these sessions,” he begins to explain, “We’ll be diving into your thoughts on the marriage as well as any personal problems you wouldn’t otherwise feel comfortable sharing with your spouse. There is a possibility that these will be addressed at every session, however.” 

“Why bring it up at all, then?” Louis drifts to the side and lays his head against the back of the couch as they talk, relaxing into the comfortable leather. 

“Well, that’s the beauty of the solo session,” Henry leans back again, his stance casual and open, “We’re able to work through these issues alone and then feel more comfortable bringing them up in a relationship setting.” 

“I see,” Louis bites at his thumbnail, the thought of detailing his most personal issues with this man swirling around in his head, “And this is all done here?” 

“For the most part, yes,” he tilts his head back and forth a bit, “Though I do like to venture from these four walls from time to time, and, as such, may schedule an appointment at a cafe or park.” 

“Sounds lovely,” Louis tells him with a small smile. 

“Yes, I was hoping you’d say so,” Henry replies, a twinkle to his eyes. 

“I stay at home a lot due to Harry’s odd hours, so getting out for even just a bit sounds like a dream,” Louis divulges without a second thought. 

“What is it your husband does for a living?” 

“He works at the general hospital as an anesthesiologist,” Louis tells him, looking down and smoothing at the wrinkles in his pants. 

“Ah,” he sighs in understanding, “So long hours and unpredictable hours are normal for your family.” 

Louis just exhales deeply and nods, “It’s only me and Butterscotch, though, so it’s not like there’s much to do at home.” 

“Butterscotch? Your...dog?” Henry guesses, his voice going high with uncertainty. 

Louis chuckles, “Close,” he says, tapping a finger to the side of his nose, “My cat.” 

“Interesting,” Henry says quietly, almost as if Louis wasn’t meant to hear, “And are you employed?” 

Clearing his throat, Louis turns to look out the window and to the street below, “Not presently,” he admits, feeling ashamed and shy. There’s a man walking a large dog crossing the street wearing a garish yellow jacket, Louis notes to himself. 

“And why is that, if you don’t mind me asking?” the doctor pushes. 

Louis clears his throat and turns back to the man, “I do mind, sorry.” 

Henry’s eyes widen at his tone and he looks down at his hands for a second before looking back up at Louis, locking their eyes together, “I apologize, Louis. I didn’t mean to pry or make you uncomfortable.” 

Louis smiles at him, “It’s not a problem, it’s just something I don’t feel ready to talk about, yet,” he says, “I’d like to hear more about the couple sessions.” 

“Of course,” Henry easily allows him to change the subject, “As I mentioned, the subjects brought up during your individual sessions will be brought up, as well as topics that I think will best suit your dynamic and situation. The first of the seven sessions, the fourth, and the seventh will all be group sessions.

“The first session will be used as an ice breaker for the three of us, so to speak. I’d like to observe your relationship dynamic and hear from both of you directly about any problems or issues you’d like to work on during our time together. The rest of our sessions will be spent working on these and any additional topics either of you brings up with me during your individual sessions.” 

“So the-” a sharp trilling sound interrupts Louis and he jumps, “I’m so sorry, it’s my mobile.” 

He bends down and digs through his bag for his mobile, pulling it out and reading the text on the illuminated screen - “Harry”. He sighs and closes his eyes as he picks up. 

“Hello?” 

“Louis,” Harry’s voice says, tinny and far away, “Where are you?”

“What do you mean?” Louis asks, his eyebrows furrowed, “I’m at the therapist’s office. I’ve been telling you about it for the past three days.” 

“Fuck,” Harry swears under his breath, then again, louder, “Fuck!” 

“What?” Louis chances a glance at Henry, seeing him watching him with an assessing gaze. He looks away, “Why are you angry?” 

“Shit,” he swears again and Louis is starting to get impatient, “I’ve got an emergency surgery to attend and I can’t get home to accept the deliveries.” 

“Alright,” Louis drawls, not understanding the urgency, “So they’ll leave a slip and I can pick them up Saturday. No big deal.” 

“Louis,” Harry snaps at him, his voice harsh and cold, “I need that parcel today. It’s for Gemma’s birthday.” 

“So tell her you’ll give it to her Saturday,” Louis reasons, starting to feel uncomfortable fighting with his husband in front of their new therapist, “Really, Harry, it’s not a huge deal. Gemma will understand.” 

“ _Fucking_ _hell_ , Louis,” Harry suddenly shouts, making Louis pull his phone away from his ear in shock, "Could you just do _one_ thing like I tell you to? Why are you always _fucking_ fighting me?” 

Shaky, Louis swallows back an unnamed emotion in his throat, “Fine. I’ll go home and get it.” 

“Great,” Harry says, tone sarcastic, “Thank you.” 

He hangs up. 

Lips pursed and eyes burning, Louis puts his phone back into his bag and stands up, “It was really nice meeting you, Doctor, but I’m needed at home,” he thrusts his hand out towards Henry, eyes glued to the straining buttons on his shirt, “Should I make the next appointment with your receptionist?” 

“Uh,” Henry stands frozen in front of him for a second before coming back to himself, “Uh, no, I’ll give you my card and you can email me or call me about your next appointment when you’ve figured out your husband’s work schedule.” 

“Of course,” Louis says, pulling the sleeves of his jacket over his hands. He watches Henry move across the office towards his desk where he picks up a small card, which he hands over to Louis. 

_Henry Cavill, Psy.D_

_Licensed marriage, personal, and sex therapist_

_555-342-2342_

“Sex therapy?” Louis asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

To his credit, the doctor doesn’t blush, “An extremely personal and efficient form of therapy, Mr. Tomlinson.” 

“Oh?” 

“Should you and your husband wish to, I would be eager to help you in any way I can offer.” Louis flushes at this, biting his lip in thought. 

“I’ll let him know,” Louis tells him, “Thank you again for your time, but I really must be going now.” 

“Of course, and please give your husband my best regards,” Henry walks him to the door, opening it for him and leaning against the wooden frame, “Have yourself a wonderful rest of the week, Louis.” 

“Thank you, you too.” 

His heart beating a mile a minute, Louis walks out of the building without looking back.

Maybe.

-

“Thank you very much,” Louis closes the door behind him, leaning against it and banging his head against the painted wood. He holds the small package in his hands, Harry’s name emblazoned on the packaging sticker. 

He’s still slightly out of breath from running inside a few minutes ago just in time for the delivery man to arrive and ring their doorbell. Letting out a stressed sigh, he slips off his shoes and walks into their house, leaving the package in the entrance for Harry. 

He makes his way to their large kitchen and pours himself a goblet of red wine, taking a sip as he walks through the winding hallways toward the bedroom. When he walks through the large double doors, Butterscotch lifts her head from where she’s sleeping and gives him a little _mrrp_ , pushing further into his hand when he pets her. 

Louis changes into more comfortable clothing and picks up Butterscotch and his wine before making his way back downstairs and into their living room. 

Sprawled along the length of their large couch, Louis flickers through the channels before settling on trashy reality tv, his hand never leaving the soft fur of Butterscotch’s fluffy stomach. He lets out small giggles and _thank yous_ whenever she licks at his fingers. 

Only half paying attention to the television, Louis thinks about what he’ll say to Harry when he comes home. The deep voice of Dr. Henry Cavill travels through his mind as he muses, his large hands and his soft couch. His voice seems to merge with Harry’s in his mind, their dark timbres harmonizing yet opposites. 

Exhausted, Louis drifts off into a dreamless sleep. 

“Mmm,” Louis moans as he wakes up to the sound of the doorbell ringing. 

He scrunches up his face in displeasure at being woken up so suddenly and grunts as he gets up. He wraps one of the softer blankets around his shoulders as he goes down towards the entrance. 

“Coming!” he shouts out. He gets to the front door, slipping on a pair of slippers and looking through the peephole. 

All he sees is red. Confused, Louis opens the door. 

“Wha-” he gasps at the sight that greets him. A large vase of dozens of red roses is being held by a sheepish looking Harry, “What’s this?” 

Harry hands him the vase and pushes past him into the house, “I wanted to apologize for earlier.” If he notices the unopened package labeled with his name, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Apologize?” Louis parrots, still in shock. He blindly follows Harry through the house as he walks, placing the overwhelming vase of flowers on the kitchen counter when they stop there. 

“Yes, apologize,” Harry tells him, a smile on his lips, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, it was uncalled for.” 

“Okay,” Louis says.

Harry’s smile grows, his eyes crinkling a bit and he makes his way over to his husband, pulling him into his chest, “You’re so cute,” he tells him, pressing a harsh kiss to the top of Louis’ head. 

He pulls back and bends a bit at the waist to make eye contact, “I’m so sorry, baby,” his voice is deep and sincere, “It won’t happen again, I fucking promise you.” 

Louis looks into his eyes and bites his lip to smother his own smile, “Okay, Harry,” he forgives him, “Thank you for the flowers.” 

“So,” Harry rumbles, pulling him in even closer and tilting his head up by the chin, “I was thinking we could have some fun tonight? Just like old times.” 

“Just like old times,” Louis echoes, “sounds amazing.”

Harry presses an enthusiastic kiss to his lips, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and dipping him, “Love you, baby!” 

“Love you, too,” Louis says when he’s upright again. His head is spinning. 

Harry turns back to the fridge, rifling through it and pulling out a bunch of ingredients, “So,” he places a head of lettuce onto the counter and turns to Louis again, “I was thinking I could make us fajitas and then we could sit down and watch a movie?” 

“Sounds amazing,” Louis’ shoulders have dropped from their defensive position and he smiles at Harry easily. This is his husband. This is the man he married. His heart feels full and warm seeing Harry navigating their kitchen easily, chopping up vegetables and cooking different meats on their stove, “How was the rest of your day?” 

“Uneventful,” Harry tells him, dropping some wine into the skillet, “Care for a glass?” 

Louis lets out a moan and jumps up to sit on the island, “Yes, please.” 

Chuckling, Harry pours him a glass of wine and slides it across the counter to Louis, “There you go, darling.” 

“Thank you, kind sir,” Louis giggles, already a bit buzzed thanks to his earlier drink. He takes a small sip and puts the glass back on the granite, “So what’s in the package that’s so important?” 

Harry freezes at the stove, “I told you,” he huffs out a laugh, “It’s Gemma’s birthday present.” 

“Well, yeah,” Louis waves his hand around, “But what’s in it that it couldn’t wait? Her birthday dinner isn’t until tomorrow.” 

“Think I’ll keep that information to myself until then,” Harry teases him, transferring the cooked food to a plate, “Dinner is ready. Could you set the table?” 

Nodding, Louis jumps down from the counter and together they finish setting up and sit down for their meal. Louis can’t help but stare across the table as Harry builds his fajitas and shoves them into his mouth, choking slightly and laughing when the tortilla falls apart in his hands. 

He hasn’t seen this silly side of his husband in months, it hits him. It’s nice. 

About halfway through their meal, Louis takes his chance, “So, I met with Dr. Cavill today,” he says, putting his fork down. Harry grunts at him, not really listening as he focuses on his rice. 

“He was very nice and willing to take us on,” he continues to blather on, “You want to know something funny?” another grunt, “He’s a sex therapist, too.”

Louis chuckles alone, “Isn’t that funny?” 

“Hilarious,” Harry deadpans. 

“Uhm, he wants to know when you’ll be available for our first session,” Louis tells him. Harry just lets out another half-hearted sound of acknowledgment, not answering. Louis bites his lip, “Harry?” 

“Christ, Louis, _what_?” he snaps. Louis flinches back in his chair, “Why the fuck did you have to bring it up now?” 

“I just thought-” Louis tries to say. 

“Really? You ‘just thought’?” His tone is mocking, Louis thinks. His lip starts to quiver, “I do all of this for you, for _us_ , and you decide to bring up our problems now?” 

“Harry-” 

“Shut up, Louis,” he stands up, “I can’t believe you ruined our night like this. Everything was going so _fucking_ well.” 

Louis can feel the heat beginning to build at the base of his spine and he rises too, mirroring his husband, “Oh, _I_ ruined it? Because this day wasn’t ruined the moment you decided to yell at me in front of our therapist, right?” 

“Oh, come off of it,” Harry rolls his eyes, “If you had just listened to me in the first place, we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“No,” Louis agrees, his voice coated in a dripping, bitter syrup, “We wouldn’t. Because you would still be at work, ignoring me and our marriage.” 

Harry scoffs and shakes his head, “Whatever, Louis.” 

_He can’t even deny it_ , Louis clenches his jaw and looks away, “Just give me a date and I’ll make sure Dr. Cavill knows when we can meet him.” 

Harry grabs his half-empty plate and brings it over to the sink, “I’ll check my schedule and let you know tomorrow.” 

“Great.” 

Louis sits back down and crosses his arms, watching Harry wash his plate and put it away, “Harry,” he sighs. 

“What.” 

“I’ll take the guest room tonight.” 

He’s looking down at his messy plate so he can’t see whether or not Harry reacts to his words, but the long silence is louder than anything, “Fine.” 

“Fine.” 

Harry walks out. 

Louis sits alone at the kitchen table for a long while, running the argument through his head again and again. Sniffling, he pushes his chair back and grabs his dishes, bringing them to the dishwasher. 

When it’s all put away, he leans his elbows on the counter, face in his hands, and breathes. He feels Butterscotch’s soft fur brush against his legs as she winds between them. Bending down, he picks her up in his arms and stuffs his face into her body, breathing in her soft smell. 

“I love you,” he whispers to no one. 

-

The following Wednesday sees Louis and Harry sitting next to each other on Dr. Cavill’s couch as the doctor himself occupies the single chair facing them, his hands folded across his stomach. Louis closes his eyes and takes a deep breath when Harry mirrors his stance, spreading his legs wide. Henry clears his throat and throws Louis a smile when Harry just stares him down. 

“Well,” he says, “I think we can get started, don’t you?” 

“Please,” Louis mutters beneath his breath. Next to him, Harry remains quiet. 

Henry just smiles pleasantly and shifts a bit in his seat, “Let’s start things off easy: how has your week been since we last spoke, Louis?” 

“Uh,” Louis startles, not expecting to be singled out, “I didn’t do much, mostly just housework and shopping.” 

“What type of housework do you typically do at home?” Henry asks him. 

He tilts his head and laughs a bit, “The usual kind? Laundry, cooking, cleaning, that sort of thing.” 

“Bit of a homemaker, are you?” he jokes. Louis laughs easily at that, the pair falling into an unfamiliar-familiar rhythm. 

“You could say that,” Leaning against the arm of the couch, he pulls his feet up under him. 

“And what about you, Harry?” the doctor turns to his husband then, “What type of housework do you consider your responsibility?” 

Louis glances over at Harry as he considers his answer. The man scratches at the skin of his arm before leaning back and saying, “Paying the bills, I guess.” 

Glancing back at Henry, Louis can see the smile frozen on his face, “Ah,” he says, “and do you have any chores or responsibilities within the home itself?” 

“I’m not really home often enough,” Harry tells him nonchalantly, “In any case, isn’t the fact that I provide us with a home at all enough?” 

“Well, yes,” Henry agrees, “to a certain degree. However, wouldn’t you agree that spending time at home and putting effort and work into it is just as important?” 

Harry just shakes his head slightly, “You’ve got a way with words, doctor.” 

“Thank you,” he turns to Louis again, crossing one leg over the other, “I believe you mentioned during our first meeting that you have a cat? Butterscotch, was it?” 

Louis breaks out into a smile at the mention of his baby, “That’s right,” he says. 

“May I ask when you adopted her? Was it a joint decision between the two of you?” 

Harry snorts beside him. Louis ignores him, “We adopted her about two years ago now? It was February of 2018, so yeah, about two years now,” he thinks back. The memory of finding her huddled beneath a ratty blanket at the shelter, her eyes wide and scared, flashes in his mind, “Um, it was more of an impulsive decision on my part.” 

“I see. And you, Harry? What did you think about Louis’ decision to bring a pet into your home?” 

“I didn’t get it at first,” Harry reluctantly admits. Louis bites his lip and looks down at his lap, “But they have a bond that I can’t explain. It’s something special and I wouldn’t be able to take that away from them.” 

“Great, that’s fantastic,” Henry says softly, “We’re going to get a bit more personal now if you don’t mind. When did you two get married?” 

“The ceremony was on the 18th of September in 2015,” Louis tells him. 

Henry nods, “And when did you begin to seek counseling and therapy for your marriage?” 

“About a year ago,” Harry answers this time, “It was just a precautionary suggestion from my parents, but we realized that there were actually a few issues we had to work through the longer we attended.” 

Louis nods beside him, fiddling with his wedding ring, “We’ve seen three therapists so far, and it seems to get worse each time.” 

“What does?” 

“The tension, the problems,” Louis explains. He waves a hand in the air as if to gesture to the awkward feeling that surrounds them, “Like facing them head-on just shines more light on them. Talking about them just makes it harder to solve them.” 

“Yes, that seems to be the case for many couples,” Henry reassures him, “It’s normal, don’t worry. Things need to get worse before they get better.” 

“Sometimes it feels like things can’t get any worse but they do,” Louis whispers. Harry shifts in his seat beside him but stays quiet. 

Henry smiles, “Perhaps that means things are about to get better, then.” 

“Hopefully,” he says. 

“Now, speaking of harder,” he chuckles to himself, “are you both sexually active?” 

Louis blushes, the pink flush climbing his neck to his cheeks, “Uh, yes, we are.” 

“With each other?” 

Harry moves suddenly, his arms resting against his knees as he leans forward, “What the fuck are you insinuating, mate?” he snaps. 

“Just a simple question, Harry,” the doctor says, raising both hands, “There’s no need for anger.” 

“I think there is, if what you’re suggesting is that we’re cheating on each other,” Harry’s jaw is clenched and his eyes blaze. 

“It’s perfectly normal for people in unhappy marriages to seek comfort outside the relationship,” Henry tells them. His voice remains calm and controlled, “These relations are sometimes even consensual and openly explored between the couple. I was merely asking.” 

“Is it common?” Louis blurts out. 

“Extremely,” the doctor turns his attention to him, “Be it consensual or not. Though I have found that, in my experience as a couples’ therapist, seeking comfort in the arms of others without having to hide it from your spouse is something that many couples have found works for them and their marriage.” 

“Sounds like bullshit,” Harry spits out. 

“I wouldn’t knock it until you’ve tried it, Mr. Styles.” 

Louis keeps his eyes on Harry as he speaks, watching as he loses the sudden tension in his shoulder. He pushes against his knees and falls back into the couch, “Yeah, right.” 

Henry smooths his tie, “I take it the answer to my initial question is yes, then.” 

The married couple nods. Henry nods back and picks up a closed notebook from the side table next to his chair. He opens it from the middle and places it in his lap, “Now, shall we get into the nitty-gritty of things?

“I’d like to ask about the issues you’d both like to address over our next six sessions together,” he explains, “Please just throw out anything that comes to mind, it may come up in future conversations or it may not, should either of you choose.” 

“Well,” Louis pipes up, “I’d like to talk about Harry’s workaholic tendencies.” 

Harry opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it when he receives a pointed look from Dr. Cavill, settling back into the couch and saying, “I’d like to talk about Louis’ refusal to listen or do as I say.” 

“Harry’s need for control over everything I do.” 

“Louis isolates himself from all of our friends and never comes out with us when we ask.” 

“I want to know why we only have sex when we’re angry at each other.” 

“Oh, you _know-_ ”

“Alright,” Henry interrupts them, “I think that’s enough for now. We’ll go into detail and explore a few of these options during our individual sessions before meeting again as a group. Louis, I’d like to meet individually first, if that’s alright with you.” 

“Perfectly,” Louis says. 

“Great, I’ll be in contact,” Henry tells him before addressing both of them, “We’ll wrap up here for today. Thank you and I wish you both a wonderful day.” 

“Thank you very much, Dr. Cavill,” Louis stands up and reaches out a hand to Henry, smiling when the doctor engulfs it in a warm handshake. 

“It’s my pleasure,” the doctor says with a smile. 

Louis turns to Harry, wanting to see if he’s ready to leave, only to find an empty seat. He looks around the room for him and notices the door swinging shut. Sighing, he says goodbye to Henry before rushing out after his husband. 

“Harry,” he shouts out. He gets no reply. Louis follows his husband out of the office and into the elevator, “Harry,” he repeats softly. 

“We’re not seeing him again,” Harry says. Louis turns his head quickly to look at him, mouth dropped open in shock. 

“What do you mean? He’s fantastic,” Louis argues, “He got you to talk a bit, didn’t he? That’s more than our other therapists can say about our first sessions together.” 

“I don’t like that he wants to talk about our sex life.” 

Louis’ mouth drops open even further and he makes an unappealing squawking sound, “He’s a sex therapist, of course he’s going to ask,” Louis places a hand on Harry’s forearm. He shakes it off and Louis sighs, “Come on, he wasn’t _implying_ anything.” 

“Like hell he wasn’t,” Harry growls, “And he’s not _our_ sex therapist, he’s our couples’ therapist, so he should learn to keep his mouth shut.” 

“Well, maybe he should be,” he suggests. Harry looks down at him with angry eyes, “You know I was right when I told him that we only have sex when we’re mad at each other. Maybe he could help us.” 

“Fuck that.” 

“How about we both meet him individually like he suggested and then we can make a decision, hm?” Louis compromises, “At least talk to him one-on-one, yeah?” 

Harry’s eyes soften slightly as Louis pleads with him, “One meeting,” he promises, holding up a finger. Louis lets out an excited squeal and tangles their hands together. 

“You’ll see,” he says, “He’ll help us.” 

-

Louis bites his lip as the clock above the desk ticks. 

“Louis?” 

Blinking, his eyes refocus on Henry as he leans forward toward him, a hand reached out as though he was about to touch him, “Are you alright?” he asks him. 

“Fine,” he answers automatically. He follows Henry’s gaze, seeing his hand clenched in a fist, twisting the soft fabric of his sweater. He quickly lets go of it and smooths out the wrinkles, “Well, maybe not,” he admits.

Henry brings up his hand to cover his mouth and breathes out heavily, “I’m sorry for bringing up any bad memories.” 

“No, no,” Louis waves him off, “It’s not your fault.” 

He can feel his nose start to run and he reaches over and grabs a tissue from the box that Henry offers him, dabbing at the wetness beneath his nose and at the corner of his eyes, “It’s been years, after all. I should be over it by now.”

“Grief has no time limit,” Henry tells him, standing up and holding out an open hand, “Why don’t we go get a coffee? It’s feeling a bit stuffy in here, don’t you find?” 

The bells above the door ring merrily as Louis and Henry walk through the coffee shop door. Next to him, Henry towers high and pulls the attention of many of the customers. Louis shifts on his feet beside him. 

“Why don’t you pick a table and I’ll make our order?” Henry suggests. Louis just nods and picks a table at the back of the cafe, secluded from anyone else. The booth is soft and worn beneath him and he pulls his legs up onto the seat with him, setting his chin on his knees. 

He’s tracing patterns along the dotted tabletop when a steaming cup of tea is slid across the table towards him. He looks up to see Henry settling into the booth opposite him with a mug of his own held between his hands. There’s a plate of scones and biscuits on the table as well. Louis grabs the handle of the cup and brings the tea towards him, breathing in the steam, “Yorkshire?” he looks up in surprise. 

“I didn’t mean to stereotype,” Henry jokes. 

“No, no,” Louis reassures him with a small smile, “It’s my favourite. Thank you.” 

“So,” Henry says after they’ve each taken a few sips of caffeine and some biscuits, “Enough of this dreary mood. Have you and Harry had any arguments or spats of note since our meeting? Feel free to unload.” 

Louis lets out a little laugh at his horrible attempt to lighten the mood, “Um,” he thinks, “I guess we haven’t really had any time to fight because he’s always at work.” 

“And why do you think that is?” Henry dunks a scone into his tea and takes a bite. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Louis hesitates, running a finger along the rim of his cup. He rests his cheek in his palm and sighs, “I think it’s just because he doesn’t want to be home.” 

“How did you come to that conclusion?” he asks him. 

“Do you ever just have a gut feeling that someone no longer enjoys your company?” Louis wonders, “It’s like that. He never looks me in the eye, he only talks to me when he needs something from me, and he even-,” he stops himself. 

“He even what?” 

“It’s a bit personal,” Louis bites his lip, cheeks flushing. 

“What am I if not someone you could share your most personal problems with, Louis? That’s quite literally my job,” Henry reminds him. 

Louis swallows and whispers, “He wears a condom when we have sex.” 

Henry tilts his head a bit, “And I assume that wasn’t the norm beforehand?” 

He receives a nod in response and rubs a hand across his mouth and hums, “Did it ever occur to you to bring up these things with Harry himself? Perhaps there is a perfectly logical reasoning for his actions.” 

Louis just shakes his head, “I can’t. He only ever gets angry if I bring it up. He likes to think that he knows what’s best for both of us.” 

Henry sits back in his seat and stares across the booth at him, lips pursed slightly in thought, “You mentioned during our first session that the only intercourse you have occurs in moments of anger and passion,” he says, “Is this still the case?” 

“It’s only been three days,” Louis giggles but sobers up quickly, “But, um, yes it is.” 

“And have either of you considered taking up my offer of additional therapy in that regard?” he asks him. Louis heats up when he thinks about Henry’s offer of sexual therapy. 

“Well,” he chokes a bit, “I did bring it up, but Harry’s very possessive. I don’t know if he would want others to hear about that kind of thing.” 

“Is it something that interests you?” 

“I, uh, well, I think that sex is an important part of any intimate relationship,” Louis explains, hands coming up to cover his flaming cheeks, “I’m not really sure what sex therapy entails, though.” 

Henry hums with a closed-mouth smile, “I’m glad you see it that way,” he places his large forearms on the table and leans forward, “Basically, sex therapy is unique for every couple. Sometimes it takes the form of conversations like the one you and I are having now, and sometimes it takes a more physical form. It all depends on the people and the circumstance. And I don’t offer it solely to couples, either.” 

“Why would single people…?” 

“As you said, sex is a vital part of any relationship, and that includes our relationships with ourselves,” the doctor explains, “Sex has a way of giving someone confidence and power not found anywhere else. I help people see this best version of themselves through their sexuality.” 

“That’s beautiful,” Louis blurts out without thinking. And he does think so. He just doesn’t see how that could be the case when every time he gives in and has sex with Harry, he feels less empowered than before. He bites his lip. 

Henry reaches over and taps a finger lightly against the side of his head, “I can tell you’re thinking in there,” he says, “Penny for your thoughts?” 

“I guess I appreciate the sentiment and the theory,” Louis tries to articulate, “I just don’t see how it could apply to me. Sex...sex to me used to be a form of empowerment, yes, but recently it just feels like a means to an end. I don’t have sex as a way to form a physical and emotional connection to my husband, rather, it’s become a way to help get the anger out.” 

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Louis,” Henry places his hand on the table, palm facing upwards. An invitation, Louis thinks, “If you both would have me, I would be elated to help you find your confidence, your power, again. Be it individually, or as a couple with your husband.” 

Louis drops his eyes, “I don’t think Harry would be comfortable with that,” he confesses. 

“I’ll try to talk to him,” Henry tells him, “Please don’t worry about it.” 

“I’ll leave it in your hands, then,” Louis giggles and picks up his cup of tea, taking a sip, “They look capable enough. I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve been faced with a stubborn or possessive husband.” 

“I can assure you that it is not,” he laughs, “Though your relationship with your husband is unlike most I’ve had the pleasure of working with.” 

“How do you mean?” Louis tilts his head with a bemused smile. 

“Well,” he curls in the fingers of his proffered hand. Louis glances down quickly before looking back at Henry, whose eyes are locked on his, “the charged air around you, the way you move around each other is... _fascinating_. As is his deference to you while still maintaining an air of detachment and power. It’s as though you’re his one weakness. I can’t help but think of old kings and their queens when I watch you both.” 

“That’s,” Louis sits there speechless. He takes a deep breath, “That’s very flattering.” 

“I know you probably don’t see it now,” Henry acknowledges, “But it’s my job to make sure that you do.” 

-

Louis is dancing in the kitchen, Butterscotch limp in his arms, as he waits for Harry to get home. 

The classical music that pours from the speakers distracts him from thinking about the conversations that the two men are likely having and he holds up his cat in the air when the music swells into a crescendo. She looks down at him and lets out a little meow. 

He brings her to his chest and pirouettes into the next room, the music following him over the house’s speaker system. “Oh, Butterscotch, what a pleasure it is to dance with you at tonight’s ball,” he says, putting on a posh accent. She meows back, which makes him giggle, “Won’t you join me for tea?” he continues. 

The sound of the front door opening and closing stops him in his tracks and he pauses in the middle of the hallway. Butterscotch starts to struggle in his hold, wanting to be put down to investigate the new arrival. He places her softly on the ground and makes his way over to the entrance. 

Harry is taking off his jacket and hanging it in the coat closet when Louis enters. His face is calm and his shoulders aren’t tense, so Louis walks forward and leans against the wall, “Welcome home,” he says. Butterscotch follows him in, winding between his legs. 

“Hi, baby,” Harry replies easily, walking by and dropping a quick kiss to his lips. Louis blinks and turns in place, wordlessly watching his husband walk through their house. 

“This is the second time he’s surprised me like this in the past two weeks alone,” Louis tells Butterscotch, receiving a surprised meow in reply, “I know.” 

“Harry?” Louis calls out when he realizes that his husband has disappeared. 

“Bedroom,” Harry calls back. Louis looks up and starts to climb the staircase to the second floor, only to have Harry meet him halfway up, caging him against the curved railing. The wrought iron digs into his back and he curls his hands around the top of it.

“Hi, baby,” Harry says with a smirk, looming above him, “Fancy meeting you here.” 

Breathless, Louis replies with a well-thought-out, “Yeah.” 

“I had an interesting session with Dr. Cavill,” Harry tells him. 

“Oh, really?” Louis can’t really think with Harry this close to him, and he breathes in the smell of his cologne, “Good interesting?” 

“Really good, I think,” Harry confirms, “He, uh, he talked about my anger issues, mostly. I never realized how that could affect you, baby. So, I’m going to try harder from today on, okay?” 

“Harry,” Louis hesitates, having heard the same promise before.

“No, listen,” Harry stops him, tilting Louis’ head gently with a finger beneath his chin, “I really want to do better for you, for _us_. He gave me a list of exercises to try out when I feel that pulse and he’s even referred me to a psychiatrist for a proper diagnosis. I’m going to get better. I promise, baby.” 

Louis can feel tears pooling in his eyes, “That’s really great, Harry. I’m so proud of you.” 

Harry gives him a big smile, his dimples carving out deep holes in his cheeks, “Thanks, baby. I’m excited for this. I feel like this is what we needed.” 

“Did you guys talk about anything else?” Louis bites his lip and stops himself from fidgeting. Harry gives him another smirk. Louis knows the answer to his question right away and blushes. 

“How about dinner first?” Harry asks him, “How does Pizza sound?” 

“Sounds great,” Louis smiles up at him, “I’ll go pick a movie and we can just pig out.” 

“Alright, babe,” Harry steps back and slaps him on the ass as he passes, causing Louis to jump and giggle as he runs out, “Just don’t pick Grease again!” 

“No promises!” Louis shouts back with a laugh. 

They’re halfway into the movie when Harry turns to Louis, “So,” he says out of nowhere. Louis startles, turning to look at him with wide eyes, “Dr. Cavill talked to me about the sex therapy.” 

“O-oh?” Louis stutters, dropping his slice of pepperoni pizza onto his plate, “What did he say?” 

“I’m guessing it was a similar pitch to the one he gave you,” Harry takes a bite out of his combination pizza, dropping a few pieces of sausage on the couch, “But, damn the way that man talks. He had me considering it.” 

Louis stops himself from biting at his nails, “Had?” 

“I mean, it would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?” Harry huffs out, “Sex therapy is for people that can’t get it up anymore and need an extra hand.” 

“I don’t think so,” Louis interrupts, “The way Dr. Cavill explained it to me, it was- it’s something powerful. Sex is supposed to be empowering and all-encompassing and I want to feel that way again.” 

“You don’t feel that way when we fuck?” Harry asks him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Well when you say it like that,” sarcasm flows through his words, “Of course I don’t, all we do is fuck out our anger. There’s no reason to feel confident. I feel _used_.” 

Harry flinches back at that and then puts his plate down on the coffee table, “Baby,” he whispers, crawling across the couch toward Louis. He cups his face with his large hands and presses their foreheads together, “Baby, baby. I am so sorry. I-” 

“Are you?” Louis says, his throat thick, “So show me.” 

“What?”

“Do sex therapy with me. Let’s fix this. Like you said.” 

Harry pushes his tongue into his cheek and groans, “Louis, this guy-” 

“Show me,” Louis pushes their foreheads together harder and locks eyes with Harry, “I need you to prove it.” 

He hears Harry take a deep inhale, then, “Fine.” 

-

“And so,” Henry says with a smile, “Here we are again.” 

“Slightly different circumstance,” Louis notes, pointing a finger at him. He’s feeling a little nervous and a lot giddy at the situation. Harry sits beside him, similarly to their first group session, with his arms crossed. He’s got a wrinkle between his eyebrows that Louis wants to reach over and smooth. 

“Ah, so it is, Louis,” Henry nods, “You’re right.” 

They all sit in the Styles-Tomlinson family living room, Louis and Harry on one side of the couch and Henry sitting on the loveseat next to Louis. Three cups of tea sit ignored on the coffee table between them and Butterscotch is purring in Louis’ lap as he runs a gentle hand through her fur. The doctor had insisted that the session take place in their house. 

“First of all, I’d like to remind you that though I did explain how my sessions usually proceed, should either of you feel even slightly uncomfortable with the proceedings, we will stop immediately,” he warns them, “I only operate under full consent and comfort. Know now that these sessions will be extremely intimate and private and will stay between the walls of this home, no matter what. You both have my word.” 

Louis nods quietly and Harry uncrosses his arms. 

Henry continues, “During these sessions, I will be watching, noting, and participating, should you wish, in any activity you wish to explore. Everything will be done safely and, once again, with the consent of _all_ parties,” he looks pointedly between them, making his intentions clear. After a bit, he smiles and sits back, “Great. Let’s get started with a bit of conversation.” 

“Sounds good,” Louis says, heart hammering against his ribcage, “right, Harry?”

“Yeah, great,” he says without enthusiasm. It doesn’t come out forced, though, and Louis files that away as a win. 

Henry nods both of them and begins, “How often, on average, would you say you have sex during a week’s time?” 

Louis looks to Harry and bites his lip in thought before turning back, “On average, I’d say maybe once or twice a week, at most.” 

“I see. And how would you describe your sexual dynamic in three words or less?” 

“What is this?” Harry scoffs, “Some kind of game show?” 

Louis elbows him in the rib, catching him off guard and pulling a quiet “ow” from him, “Just answer the question, Harry. I’d describe us as angry, passionate, and toxic.” 

“Toxic? Baby, what the fuck?” Harry exclaims. Henry puts out a hand and shushes him. Harry ignores him, “We’re so much more than that. We’re electric, we’re fire, we’re fucking _magnetic!_ ” 

“Alright, so Louis sees this magnetism as a result of anger and Harry sees it as a result of your chemistry as a couple,” Henry summarizes for them, “I’d have to agree with both of you, here. It seems that this magnetic chemistry often results in fits of anger or passion, leaving it with nowhere to go but down and out.” 

Louis bites his lip at that, digging his fingers into Butterscotch and massaging her little shoulders, “Is that a good thing?” Louis is almost afraid to ask. 

“It could be,” Henry tells him seriously, not beating around the bush, “But it could also be the thing that causes your downfall. This type of soul-searing passion only comes along a few times per decade. The type of love written in romances, love as depicted through Catherine and Heathcliff. That type of love...is dangerous. But it can also be _so_ rewarding.” 

Louis nods, “Yeah,” he whispers, laughing quietly to himself, “sounds about right.” Next to him, Harry reaches out and grabs his hand, pulling it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He looks at him with familiar green eyes, but Louis doesn’t recognize the person behind them. He looks down. 

Henry clears his throat, “I’d like to move this meeting to the bedroom now, if you didn’t mind,” Louis swallows at that, mouth going dry, “I think seeing your dynamic in action would be the best way to understand how to help you. Is that alright with both of you?” 

“Yes,” Harry says against the skin of Louis’ hand. 

“Yes,” Louis repeats, his voice soft and quivering slightly with nerves. 

They all stand and make their way upstairs with Louis leading the way, his nervous footsteps carrying him faster than theirs through the house. He can feel Harry’s eyes on his ass as he climbs the stairs and he pulls his sweats over his ass, feeling self-conscious in front of Henry. 

He reaches the double doors to their bedroom and puts his back against it, hand on the doorknob and chest heaving. When both men catch up to him, Henry steps forward and puts out a hand, “Louis, if you’re feeling too nervous or uncomfortable, we’ll stop here,” he says in his comforting, deep voice. Louis relaxes slightly against the door and shakes his head. 

“No,” he says, “I want to, I promise.” 

“If you’re sure,” he concedes, “Shall we go inside?” 

Taking a deep breath and holding it in his lungs for as long as possible, Louis twists the knob in his hand and opens the door behind him, following the door as it swings open. He watches Henry walk into the room and take in the layout, finding the best place to sit in order to have the best vantage point. 

Harry stops beside him and wraps an arm around his waist, bending down and whispering into his ear, “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Louis looks up at him and nods, his eyes glittering. Harry just looks at him for a bit before nodding and following the doctor into the bedroom. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Louis takes a deep breath and closes the door behind him. 

He walks in to see that Henry has placed one of their wingback chairs near the end of the bed and that both he and Harry stand next to it, waiting for him. Louis stands before them and holds onto one arm as he digs his big toe into the plush carpet, “Shall we get started?” he asks nervously, glancing up at both of them. 

“Why don’t you just go about how you normally would while I take a seat,” Henry suggests, gesturing towards the large bed, “Please pretend that I’m not here.” 

Louis looks at Harry and Harry looks at Louis and they stand there. And Louis doesn’t know what to do. Because it’s been so long since they’ve had sex when they haven’t been raging mad. Harry takes a step forward and Louis takes one back automatically. 

He gasps, “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he says to both Harry and Henry, looking at both of them, “I just don’t know what to do.” 

“Louis, baby,” Harry soothes him, coming closer slowly, gaining confidence when Louis doesn’t turn and run, “It’s okay, baby. I get it, you just need to breathe.” 

Louis nods up at him but looks down when he can feel an arm snake around his waist, “Right,” he says, “Breathing.” 

Harry nods back, rubbing his hand along the sides of Louis’ torso, soothing gently, “Exactly, in and out,” he brings Louis’ hand to his chest, breathing deeply, “Just like this, okay?” Louis nods and tries to match his breathing, his body relaxing when the oxygen reaches his brain. 

Seeing the change in his body language, Harry tightens his hold around Louis’ waist and lets go of his hand to cup his cheek, “It’s just like normal, just like old times, yeah?” 

“I wouldn’t exactly call this normal,” Louis whispers between them. Harry chuckles and pulls him up onto his tippy toes, connecting their lips in a kiss. The first one they’ve shared this week, Louis thinks to himself. He finds himself getting distracted, his eyes opening a tad to watch Henry watch them from the corner of his periphery. 

Henry has one leg crossed over the other and he’s got a hand resting against his mouth. His eyes are dark and assessing as he watches the couple. They flicker up to Louis’ face. He shuts his eyes and tries to focus on the kiss, moving his lips against Harry’s and moaning slightly when he licks into his mouth. 

“There we go, baby,” Harry murmurs against his mouth. Louis whimpers when he grabs at his ass, squeezing the skin and no doubt leaving red marks on his cheeks. 

“Harry,” he gasps, grabbing the loose fabric of his shirt in clenched fists. 

“Yeah?” Harry grunts, thrusting his hips against Louis, “What do you want, baby?” 

Louis licks his lips, catching Harry’s tongue and upper lip as he does, “Want what you want,” he says, “Want to be good, for you, for H-for you.” 

“Just for me?” Harry teases him, a wicked smirk curling his swollen lips, “You sure about that?” Louis doesn’t answer him, just gasps when Harry bends down and picks him up by his thighs. He wraps his arms and legs around Harry, surprised at the sudden change in height. 

He lets out a little _oof_ when Harry drops him on the mattress and crawls between his thighs, “Could have warned me,” he grumbles. 

Harry prowls along the length of his body until their faces meet, planting both hands on either side of Louis’ face, he whispers, “But where’s the fun in that?” 

“This isn’t only about you,” Louis breathes out with a raised eyebrow. 

Harry just shakes his head and gives him another cruel smile, dropping a kiss to his lips and making his way down Louis’ body. He spends a few minutes sucking lovebites and marks on his neck and collarbones before pushing at Louis’ arms to take off his shirt. 

Goosebumps cover his pale skin as the cold bedroom air surrounds him. A shiver runs down his back and he pulls at the back of Harry’s shirt to get him to do the same. 

Not paying him any attention, Harry continues his path down Louis’ body, licking and pulling at the ring pierced through his belly button and nibbling the skin of his tummy, “So fucking sexy,” Harry says against his sticky skin. Louis shivers again, the deep resonance of Harry’s voice tickling up the back of his spine. 

Large hands play at the waistband of his leggings and Louis tosses his head back when Harry mouths at the bulge in his pants over the fabric, wetting the material. He opens his eyes and meets Henry’s. 

The man is watching them, no, watching him, as Harry pulls his leggings off and throws them aside. Henry has his hand pressed against his mouth and his eyes are dark, darker than before. His legs are widely spread and he’s slouching slightly in the chair. He looks hungry, dominating, powerful. 

Louis cries out when Harry swallows him down, tongue circling around his cock and pressing against the skin beneath his crown. He throws a hand back, reaching for something he doesn’t know he wants. His fingers tangle in the blanket and he kicks out a leg when he feels Harry swallow around his length. He can see Henry’s throat bob at the sight and feels a rush of power. 

He’s affecting this man, he realizes. Louis bites his lip to hold in a moan and arches his back, watching Henry cross his legs. He holds back a satisfied smile at the sight, stretching his body out, knowing how his curves catch the light. Below him, Harry hums, sending vibrations through his body and making his shudder. 

He tangles his free hand in Harry’s curls, pulling slightly. Harry groans again and presses his fingers into the soft skin of Louis’ hips with bruising strength. Harry pulls off then, and says in a wrecked voice, “Wasn’t just for me, then, was it?” 

Louis blushes at being called out and pushes on Harry’s head, trying to get him to shut up without saying anything. Instead of sucking him down again, Harry runs his fingers down Louis’ hips and around his ass. His thumb presses briefly against his hole, causing Louis to suck a desperate breath at the feeling. 

“Harry,” he gasps.

He freezes when he hears Harry call out to their audience, “Hey doc, could you grab us some lube and a condom? It’s in the bedside table on the left,” he clarifies. Louis closes his eyes, but the sound of rustling cloth and a creaking chair sends his heart racing. Their barely-used bottle of lube and a wrapped condom are placed gently next to Louis on the bed and Henry’s presence lingers in his space, even after he’s settled back in the chair. 

Harry reaches a hand up and grabs the lube, making pointed eye contact with Louis and raising an eyebrow, “You putting on a show, baby?” he teases him. 

Louis just shakes his head stubbornly, “No,” he denies. 

Harry scoffs, “Please, honey, I know your body and I know your body even better when you’re trying to pull,” he says, “Don’t try to fool me. It’s okay, we can give him a show.” 

“Yeah?” Louis brings his hands up beneath his chin bashfully, a little excited. 

“Yeah, baby, just make sure it’s not his name you’re screaming.” 

“Wha-Harry!” He shouts when there are suddenly two fingers driving into his body, pushing the breath from his chest in a shocked gasp. Having had ten years to familiarize himself with his lover’s body, Harry finds his prostate easily and thrusts his fingers against it insistently, driving Louis into a frenzy. 

He thrashes against the comforter, tangling his hands in the fabric and curling his body against the onslaught of pleasure. “ _Fuuuck_ ,” he moans out at a particularly sharp thrust, causing Harry to chuckle. 

“That’s it, Louis,” he says and even in his state, Louis hears a break in his voice and looks down, noticing that Harry has pulled his cock from his shorts and is frantically stroking it. His face is tense and he’s got sweat glistening on his chest as he brings them both to their climax. The sight has Louis chuckling a bit before a whimper breaks through his throat. 

It pulls Harry’s attention, though, and he slows his movement, “What?” he asks. 

“I just find it funny,” Louis gasps out through heaving breaths, “that the one time you focus on my pleasure is when there’s someone else in the room.” 

It’s the first time he’s acknowledged Henry’s presence since they’ve started and now that he’s brought it up, it’s hard to ignore. He can feel Henry’s gaze on his body like a sharp knife grazing against him and he can hear his deep, even breaths across his skin like a summer’s breeze. 

Harry looks up at the man in question before turning back to Louis, “It’s always about you, baby,” he says with barely restrained anger. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are getting hard, “It’s _always_ fucking about you, isn’t it?” 

“Harry,” Henry speaks for the first time, his deep voice cutting through the tense air, “remember your exercises. Louis, please refrain from antagonizing your husband for the moment.” 

Harry closes his eyes and pulls back from Louis entirely, leaving him unsatiated and cold on the bed. Louis watches as Harry leaves the room, closing the bathroom door behind him with a slam. He sits alone on the bed, but not alone in the room. Henry joins him in silence, one hand still covering his mouth and the other tightly clenched onto the chair’s arm. The veins in his forearms bulge attractively and Louis has to repress a shiver at the sight of him. 

Tearing his eyes away from his sex therapist, Louis turns over onto his stomach and pitches his face into the bed, groaning. He kicks his feet in the air, “Why do I always have to fuck things up?” he asks the air. 

It’s not the air that answers, though, “My guess is that you felt nervous,” Henry muses, “because this was the first time in a while, as you said, that you were the focus. Unused to it, and especially with my presence amplifying the experience, you turned to a familiar defense mechanism: your sarcasm and dry wit. It does seem as though you desire to challenge Harry, but this was something that even you weren’t expecting. You simply reacted according to your habits.”

Louis raises his head and watches the doctor talk, crossing his ankles in the air behind him, “So he reacted that way because he wasn’t expecting it either?” he guesses.

“That would be my conclusion,” Henry agrees, “Though the outcome probably hurt his pride more than anything.” 

His words fly right over Louis’ head. His eyes are glued to the doctor’s mouth as he speaks, his plush lips covered slightly by his facial hair. _The groomed beard is a nice change_ , Louis decides. He clenches his thighs together at the thought of feeling the scratch of it against his skin. Louis blushes when he realizes that Henry is watching him, one eyebrow raised in question, “Uh, sorry, what was that?” 

“I asked if you wanted to end it here for tonight,” Henry repeats himself with a smile. 

“No!” Louis blurts out, “I mean, we need this. I don’t want to end tonight without doing this, at least.”

“You wouldn’t be losing if we stopped here, Louis,” he reassures him, standing up and making his way over to the side of the bed. Louis raises himself up on his elbows as he nears, head tilted up to keep eye contact, “We can always try again another day. Sometimes it’s better to give up before you lose something even more important.” 

Louis bites his lip at the sight of Henry’s flushed face and glassy eyes, “I don’t want you to go, though,” he whispers. 

Glancing down, he licks his lips at the sight of the sizable bulge in his crotch, “and I don’t think you do, either,” he teases, rolling his hips against the comforter. 

“Unfortunately, I think I have to now,” Henry tells him with a rueful smile, “Not until we speak with your husband in a controlled environment.” 

Louis whines, and rubs his thighs together, trying to put some much-needed friction on his cock. 

He sighs and leans into it when Henry drags a cool hand along his face, his thumb brushing against Louis’ parted lips, “Until then, Louis,” he bids him quietly, “Good night.” 

“Good night, Henry,” Louis says, just as softly. Pulling his hand away painfully slow, the therapist gathers his things and leaves, closing the bedroom door behind him. 

-

The hustle and bustle of the emergency room interrupts Louis for the third time and he sighs when Harry’s voice gets quiet and distant when he turns away from the phone to speak with one of the nurses. His tone is impatient and sharp when he returns, “Louis, what is it? I have three surgeries I need to prepare for today,” he says. 

“I just wanted to ask if you were going to be home tonight,” Louis bites at his thumbnail. He’s curled up on their couch, a blanket thrown over his lap, and the television flashing scenes of daytime television. He’d just woken up from his second nap of the day when he decided to call Harry about what Henry had suggested the week before. Eager to try again, he’d dialed up his husband’s phone number right away without considering where he was and what time it was. He was lucky enough to catch Harry on the tail-end of his lunch break, “Dr. Cavill said he would come over again and we could give it another try.” 

“Louis, if you want to fuck our therapist, go ahead,” Harry’s voice goes distant again as he pulls away from the phone. Louis’ mouth drops open and he gapes at nothing for a bit before recovering. Surely, he heard wrong. 

“What?” 

“I said, if you want to have sex with our sex therapist to fulfill a fantasy or because you damn well feel like it, I won’t stop you,” Harry repeats himself. Louis chokes on nothing. 

“Harry, I don’t-” 

“I heard you that night,” Harry confesses. The sound quality has suddenly improved and Louis can only assume that Harry has locked himself in an isolated room where no one can overhear him, “I heard you and I really don’t care, Louis. If it’ll make you happy, fucking go for it.” 

“Harry,” Louis hesitates, guilt clawing at his throat, “I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry, baby?” Harry asks him, voice softening at the edges, “I know this is partially my fault for never being home. There’s no need for you to take on responsibility or guilt for feeling sexual attraction to a man that shows you attention and care, okay? That’s not on you.” 

Louis lets out a hiccuping sob, “It feels like it is,” he whispers, “Feels so wrong.” 

“It’s not wrong,” Harry assures him with a firm tone, “It’s perfectly natural and you _know_ Dr. Cavill will tell you the exact same thing.” 

Louis shrugs to himself and pulls the blanket up around his shoulders as though to hide from the millions of invisible judging eyes he can feel on his skin, “Mmm,” he hums, “I know.” 

“If you were worried because you felt like it was cheating, here is me saying that it wasn’t and it isn’t,” Harry says, “Here is me consenting to you pursuing a sexual relationship with Henry Cavill, if you want to.” 

“I-I don’t,” Louis stutters, “I don’t know, yet.” 

“That’s alright, baby,” Harry cooes, “Why don’t you start by inviting him over for dinner tonight? It’ll just be the two of you. I’m not home until tomorrow night anyway and him being there would soothe some of my worries. Got it?” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Louis whispers. He thinks about mentioning the fact that he’d already spent all day with Henry, helping sort out the filing system in his office. Instead, he sniffles and wipes a sleeve under his nose, “Harry?” 

“Yes, Louis?” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too, baby,” Harry tells him, “Now go get that man.” 

Louis bursts into giggles at his joking tone and hangs up with a smile on his face. Butterscotch meows at him from her perch on the back of the sofa and he reaches over to scratch at her head, “What the fuck just happened?” he asks her giddily, “What is even my life right now?” 

He’s got his cellphone grasped in a tight fist when he looks down. Breathing in deeply, he unlocks it and brings up his recent text messages with Henry, all of them detailing appointment times and confirmations. With a shaky inhale, he presses the button for the voice call and waits, immediately putting the phone on speaker and dropping it in his lap. 

The phone rings a few times before, “Henry Cavill speaking,” a deep voice echoes. 

“Uh,” Louis can feel his heart trying to beat out of his chest, “It’s Louis. Tomlinson.” 

“Louis,” he can hear the warmth and smile through the phone, and smiles back automatically, “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” 

He licks his lips and swallows, “I wanted to invite you over for dinner,” he says shyly, his cheeks burning. Henry goes quiet for a few seconds over the line. 

He hears him clear his throat on the other end, “Sorry, Louis, I was interrupted. Could you please repeat that?” 

Louis blushes bright red and brings his knees up to his chest, cradling the phone in his hands, “I wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight,” he repeats. 

Henry goes “Ah,” and quiets again for a bit, then chuckles, “I would love to join you and your husband for dinner tonight.” 

Louis coughs a bite and picks at a thread in the blanket sheepishly, “It’ll be just me, actually,” he lets out. 

“Louis,” Henry says quietly. His serious tone has Louis tensing his shoulders, “Have you spoken with Harry about this? You won’t be able to turn back should this invitation hold, I’m letting you know now.” 

“Yes,” Louis assures him, “We spoke and I-I’m sure. This is what I want.” 

Henry makes a deep humming noise on the other side of the line, “Alright,” he agrees, “I’ll be over at seven.” 

Louis takes a sharp breath, and shakes his fist together, overwhelmed with some unnamed, excited emotion, he picks up his phone and brings it close to his face, “I’ll see you at seven, then,” he says to the device. Then, a bit quieter, “I can’t wait.” 

“Me neither,” he whispers back. 

They hang up and Louis sits there in silence for a second before kicking out his arms and legs in the air excitedly. Butterscotch meows down at him from her perch and he jumps up, the blanket falling from his shoulders and fluttering to the ground, “Oh, my God!” he shouts out, “Butterscotch, holy shit. What have I just done? I have to go get ready. What time is it?” 

He checks his phone. It’s three pm, he sees, “I only have four hours to get ready and choose and cook a meal, Butterscotch!” 

He grabs her face gently, getting a mewl in return, “I have a date. I have a date with a man that’s not my husband and my husband knows about it and he encouraged it,” he rambles, nerves taking over. 

“You know what,” he decides, “I need a shot.” 

Feeling slightly looser after a shot of tequila, Louis rushes around the house, tidying up as he goes and getting everything ready for his visitor. He cleans his kitchen until it sparkles and straightens every book in the large bookshelves that line the living room wall. When he reaches the bedroom, he hesitates in the middle of the room, unsure of where to start. Are they even going to have sex? Does Louis want to have extramarital sex in his and his husband’s bed? 

He thinks as he gets ready, putting on a soft cream sweater and his favourite black jeans. He spends a good amount of time trying to pace his fringe in just the right spot before giving up when his hair refuses to cooperate. Checking the time again, he startles when his phone clock reads six pm. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants as he leaves the room, locking the door behind him and tucking the key away in his pocket, “fuck, fuck.” 

Taking apart the kitchen that he just spent an hour cleaning, Louis throws together a foolproof lasagne and pushes it into the oven just as the doorbell rings. He straightens up and fixes his fringe as he rushes to the door, taking a deep breath with one hand on the handle. 

The door swings open to reveal the hulking figure of Henry Cavill, still dressed in what Louis presumes was his suit from work, and holding a small bouquet of yellow flowers.

“Hi,” Louis breathes out, going slightly limp and thanking God for his tight hold on the door. 

Henry gives him a sweet smile, ”Hello, Louis.” 

He steps back into the house and gestures inside, “Please come in,” he steps back again when Henry comes inside, “Did you want a glass of wine?” 

“I think I’ll abstain from any alcohol tonight,” Henry informs him, neatly folding his scarf and placing it on the side table by the entrance, “I suggest you do the same.” 

Breath coming out a little bit shaky, Louis just nods and leads him through the home toward the kitchen, “I made a lasagne, I hope that’s alright with you,” he says, checking the oven and making sure the cheese is getting sufficiently melty. 

A heat at his back has Louis standing straight and falling back into Henry’s body as he cages him against the oven. He reaches over Louis’ shoulder with a long arm and pushes a few buttons on the oven, turning it off and leaving the lasagne to cool. 

“Smells delicious,” his deep voice whispers into Louis’ ear, who shivers at the feeling of his breath tickling against his skin. He leans back a bit more into the solid body behind him, “Are you sure dinner is the only reason you invited me over, Louis?” 

Louis bites his lip and drops his head back against his shoulder, looking up through his lashes and meeting Henry’s eyes, “No,” he says softly. 

“Why did you invite me over, lovely boy?” Henry gives him a sly smile and grasps him by the waist with both hands, the width of his palms and the length of his fingers almost circling his entire body, Louis shivers. 

“Well,” he’s surprised that he doesn’t stutter, “Harry said-” 

Henry cuts him off with a _shh_ and slowly trails his hand down from his waist to his hip with the back of his fingers, learning his body and his curves, “I know what Harry said,” he tells Louis quietly, “I want to know what _you_ want.” 

Louis turns his head into Henry’s neck and mumbles into his skin. 

The man chuckles at him and presses his hands harder into his hips, “Could you speak up a bit, dove?” he asks. 

Louis flicks out his tongue and bites at the skin of his neck, making him chuckle, “I want to,” he swallows, “I want to feel confident again. I want to relearn my body and how to accept pleasure as you said.” 

“That’s perfect, Louis,” Henry turns him around in his arms so that they’re facing each other. He cups one of Louis’ cheeks and rubs his thumb along his cheekbone, “I’ll show you how to love yourself like you’ve never done before,” he whispers.

Louis lets out a whimper and clutches at Henry’s shirt with one hand, tugging at the fabric a few times, “Please,” he pleads, rising up onto the tips of his toes. 

Henry glides his hand along his face so that he cups his chin and tilts his head up, “Are you sure you want to do this?” he says against his lips, “Last chance.” 

“So fucking sure,” Louis pants out, eyes slipping shut in anticipation. 

Henry breathes out against him and closes the distance between them, pressing their lips together. Louis clutches the lap of his suit jacket and kisses back slowly, learning the curves of Henry’s lips and the feeling of his mouth against his. His mind is reeling at the fact that he’s kissing a man that isn’t his husband but his body starts to heat up regardless. 

He pulls back slightly and presses a few extra kisses to Henry’s lips. Opening his eyes and looking up, Louis can see that Henry is just as affected as he is, eyes dark and glassy. His cheeks are slightly flushed. Louis presses the back of his hand against his heated cheek, watching as Henry presses into the cold skin with closed eyes. 

“Shall we move this elsewhere?” Henry asks him, cracking an eye open to look down at him. 

Louis bites at the inside of his cheek, “I, uh, prepared one of our guest rooms,” he confesses, looking down at his hand still twisted in the fabric of Henry’s suit. He unravels it and tries to smooth out the fabric uselessly. 

Henry grabs his hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing the top of it before pulling Louis along with him as he moves towards the staircase. Giggling, Louis follows him, skipping along when Henry’s strides become too long for him to keep up with. They stop at the top of the stairs when Henry turns to him again and cups his face with both hands to pull him into another bruising kiss, tangling his fingers in the hair that falls along the back of his neck. 

Louis gasps at the urgency in his movement, giving Henry an opening to deepen the kiss. He wraps an arm around Louis’ waist, dipping him slightly, trying to push into his space even further. Louis wraps his own around Henry’s broad shoulders, holding on tightly as the man presses their bodies together and kisses him like a man starved for touch. 

When he’s standing straight again, Henry pulls back and bends down to suck a mark into the sensitive skin of his neck, “Wanted to do this so badly that night,” he groans out, “You have no idea, dove.” 

“I think I might,” Louis gasps. He’s winding his hands through the sleeves of Henry’s jacket, pushing it off of his arms and down his back. Henry shakes his hands out of the sleeves and lets it fall to the floor beneath them without stopping. 

Henry takes a hand off of his waist to unbutton his shirt, letting the crisp white fabric hang loosely on his large frame. He pulls Louis along again and backs him up against the wall, caging him in with a large arm resting against the white surface beside him. 

Running his free hand along the curves of Louis’ body and pressing into the soft skin of his hip, Henry breathes out a deep chuckle, “You really don’t.” 

Looking up at him through his lashes, Louis tilts his head cheekily, “Wanna bet?” he whispers. Henry smiles at that, shaking his head slightly. 

Glaring playfully, Louis clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “You don’t believe me?” He pouts. When Henry shrugs playfully, Louis narrows his eyes at him and presses his fingertips against his firm chest, applying a bit of pressure. Henry catches on quickly and moves backward easily, letting Louis push him against the opposite side of the hall. 

Leaning confidently against the surface behind him, Henry lifts a brow, “What are you going to do?” he teases, running a hand through his coiffed hair and letting his curls lay across his forehead messily. 

Louis scrapes his teeth across his bottom lip and slowly falls to his knees before him. 

His body burns with the sight of Henry towering over him, his body slightly curved around him in a protective shell. Rising up, he braces his hands against Henry’s thighs and leans his head against one leg, eyes locked with the ones above him, “Want me to prove it right here?” he asks with a smirk. 

“Oh, you are positively _wicked_ , aren’t you?” Henry realizes, “He doesn’t know what the hell he’s missing, dove.” 

Louis freezes against his leg. Henry closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall, banging it against the plaster a few times, “Fuck,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “I’m so sorry, Louis. I shouldn’t have brought him up.” 

“Um,” Louis picks his head up, “no, no. It’s fine, really. It’s not that.”

“What up, then?” Henry’s also frozen in place at the sudden shift in tone, his body going slightly slack against the wall and his hands coming up to rub at his face, “Was it something we did?” 

“No, absolutely not, it was perfect!” he protests, “It just, my brain has been yelling at me all night about how this is wrong, even though I know that Harry gave me permission. Mentioning him just jump kicked that feeling into overdrive, I guess.” 

Henry reaches down and cups his cheek, pulling a little and bringing him to his feet, “I know you said he talked to you about it,” Henry pulls him in, wrapping his arms around Louis and rocking them from side to side, “But I want to call him tonight before we really do anything and set some guidelines together. Maybe that’ll help you feel more at ease.” 

Louis relaxes completely in his hold and nuzzles into Henry’s chest, petting a hand through his chest hair. Breathing in the musky scent of his skin, “Sounds good,” he sighs. 

“Alright,” Henry agrees, leading him out of the hallway and back downstairs, “Why don’t we go have some of that delicious lasagne you made? It looked amazing, dove.” 

Louis smiles up at him, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, “I was freaking out when I made it, so it might not be that good,” he tells him in secret. 

Henry rubs a soothing hand up and down his back and they descend, “I’m sure it’ll be the best thing I have all week. No, all year.” 

Louis wraps his arms around Henry’s bicep and digs his face into it, laughing, “You are a silly man, Henry Cavill.” 

“There’s that smile,” he hears from above him, softly whispered. Louis just presses his face further into the soft cotton of Henry’s shirt and keeps walking without a word. 

-

They’re in the guest bedroom, sitting across from each other on the bed with their legs crossed. Henry sets the phone between them and puts it on speaker, the dial tone ringing through the room. Louis pulls his sleeves over his hands nervously and watches Henry switch his gaze between the phone and Louis. 

“Hello?” a groggy voice comes through. Louis bites his lip at the sound and looks up at Henry for guidance. “Louis?” Harry calls, “Why are you calling? Is the doc gone?” 

Henry raises an eyebrow at that, clearly holding back a satisfied smirk, “No, Harry, I’m still here.” 

Harry makes a choking sound, probably sitting up in the break-room bed, “Why the fuck are you calling me at 9 pm? Shouldn’t you guys be getting busy by now?” 

Louis blushes at his crude language, picking at the skin on his legs to avoid looking at the doctor, “Harry,” he admonishes, getting a half-hearted sorry in return, “Um, we’re actually calling about that.”

The other side of the line is quiet for a few minutes but Louis can barely make out the sounds of breathing, opening and closing doors, and the slamming of a car door, “Where are you guys right now?” Harry asks, out of breath. 

“Where are _you?_ ” Louis replies automatically, sharing a confused look with Henry, “We’re in the guest bedroom on the second floor. The one with the cream curtains.” 

“I’m in my car,” Harry tells them, “The one with the cream curtains, okay. So why are you calling, exactly?” 

“Um,” Louis catches Henry’s eye and flushes a deep red down to his chest, “It didn’t feel right doing it without you,” he confesses quietly. Henry reaches a hand over and grasps one of Louis’, turning it over and massaging his palm, offering silent support and comfort. 

Harry lets out a deep breath, the staticky sound coming through the phone between them, “What do you need from me, baby?” he asks Louis. 

“Um,” Louis thinks about it, “I guess, if you could either set some rules or guidelines for us, like how far we can go or what hard lines you don’t want us to cross.”

“Alright,” Harry says right away, “Let me think about it.” 

“Harry,” Henry cuts in. Louis looks up at him, fingers curling around his hand and locking them together, “Instead of that, I think, if you’d be willing, we’d love it if you joined us for the night.” 

“Mate,” Harry deadpans, “I don’t know if you remember, but I’m quite literally stuck at work until tomorrow night. Can’t exactly make a quick trip home to watch a man fuck my husband.” 

“You’re with us now, aren’t you?” 

Louis watches the exchange in tense silence, smiling slightly when Harry sends him an encouraging nod. Louis tightens the hold he has on his hand before letting go and crawling across the bed towards him on all fours. Settling in beside him, Louis leans to the side slightly and rests his head against the expanse of Henry’s bicep. He begins to nervously draw patterns along his forearm with his finger as Harry stays quiet. 

A small tap on his forehead has him looking up at Henry. He gestures toward the phone. “Harry,” Louis calls out, continuing when Henry nods at him, “Won’t you join us?” 

“Baby,” Harry sighs, already defeated, “I start my second shift in a few hours.” 

“This’ll help you sleep,” he sing-songs, “Come on, Harry, I need you here with me. Please?” 

“I don’t mean to be presumptuous,” Henry cuts in beside him with a sly smile, “but you wouldn’t have moved to your car if you thought this was going to be a quick and easy call, Mr. Styles.” Louis’ mouth drops open in shocked delight at the doctor’s perception and he gives a short applause, which Henry bows to. 

“Fuck,” the phone says, “Alright, what do you want me to do, doc?” 

Henry reaches over and moves the phone from the middle of the bed to rest on one of the pillows, the speaker facing out towards them, “If you could just talk to Louis for now,” he suggests, “and we can go from there.” 

“Alright,” Harry breathes in and Louis tries to match it with a deep inhale of his own, feeling the oxygen move through his chest, “How you doing, baby?” He addresses Louis. 

“Good,” Louis breathes out as Henry begins kissing a trail down the side of his neck, “A little nervous, but when aren’t I?” 

The man at his neck pauses in his movement to lick at a specific spot on his neck, sucking the skin between his teeth and biting. Louis hisses when he gives a particularly harsh nip, shoulder reflexively twitching, “What’s he doing, Lou?” Harry asks him, “Describe it for me.” 

“He’s giving me a love bite on my neck,” Louis describes with a pleasured sigh, bringing a hand up to feel around the area. His fingers brush against Henry’s hair and he tangles them through the strands, pulling lightly when he sucks another bite into his pale skin, “Feels so good, Harry.” 

“That’s good, Louis,” Harry praises him. The sound of fidgeting on the other end of the line has Louis furrowing his brow but Harry’s voice comes back a bit further than before and he knows then that Harry has set his iPhone on the dashboard, “Keep going, I want to hear.” 

“He’s running his hands along my thighs and stomach,” Louis gasps when his belly ring is pulled and flicked, the butterflies in his stomach going crazy, “He’s found the piercing, H.” 

Harry chuckles at that, “I bet he’s going crazy, huh? That was the best decision you ever made, baby, that little thing.” 

“Better than marrying you?” Louis hums as Henry pushes him to lay flat along the bed, “Yeah, H, he fucking loves it,” Henry blows a raspberry against and licks at the skin of his stomach. Louis shivers when the cold hair hits the wet skin, running a dainty hand through curly hair and down his neck. His legs clap together and he gasps suddenly when his belly ring is sucked into a warm mouth, Henry’s tongue poking and licking the skin around it. 

“Nothing’s better than you saying yes, baby,” Harry’s voice quiets slightly, “Best day of my fucking life.” 

A whimper falls from Louis’ throat when his shirt is pushed up around his chest, exposing his nipples to the cold air and making them harden. Henry’s hands caress his body, thumbs occasionally rubbing against his nipples and making him let out small, gasping breaths, “Good?” he hears from the man above him. 

“So good,” Louis confirms, wrapping his legs around his waist and pulling him closer. Henry comes easily, hips falling into the dip of Louis’ body and hands bracing on either side of his body. “More, please,” he requests in his high voice. 

“Always begging for more,” Harry’s voice comes through, pulling Louis’ attention to the phone, “You’re insatiable, baby.” 

“I can’t wait to see it,” Henry cuts in, holding himself up with one arm to run his hand down Louis’ body. He plays with the hem of his jeans, teasing fingers dipping in and out of the fabric. Louis nods quickly, lip caught between his teeth. Henry slides off of the bed and hooks his fingers beneath the fabric, eyes dark with clear intent. 

“I’m taking his pants off now, Harry.” 

“Enjoy the spiritual experience, doc. He’s one-of-a-kind.” 

Louis wiggles his hips when Henry pulls his pants down, slipping his own fingers under his briefs and pushing them down with his jeans. He watches through lidded eyes as the man before him unbuckles his leather belt and slowly pulls it from the waistband of his fitted pants before climbing back onto the bed. Louis raises his arms and giggles when Henry gives in easily and strips him of his shirt, kissing his stomach and his nipples as they get fully exposed. Throwing his shirt onto the ground, Henry rests between Louis’ splayed legs on the bed and lowers himself to press his lips to his stomach again. 

“Is it alright if I touch you, Louis?” Henry whispers against his skin. One of his hands is also resting against Louis’ plush stomach, fingers playing with his piercing. Louis shivers at the deep, wanting timbre of his voice and nods. 

Henry makes his home between Louis’ spread thighs and runs his hands along the heated skin of his thighs, up, up, up, towards his rapidly hardening cock. He stops a few inches short and then runs his hands back down, pulling a whine from Louis’ throat with the movement. He repeats the pattern a few more times.

“Is he teasing you, baby?” Harry makes an educated guess, “I know that sound.”

“Yeah, he’s being- _ah_ ,” he tries to answer Harry but gasps when a hand circles his cock, almost completely covering it, “Oh my god,” he moans when he sees the size difference, tossing his head back into the mattress. 

Henry keeps his hand on his cock as he leans forward to connect their lips, putting pressure against Louis’ hips and making him spread his legs more to make room for the large body between them. Louis moans at the stretch and loops his arms around Henry’s neck as their lips meet. 

If Harry kisses like fire, Louis thinks, then Henry kisses like an ocean storm. He takes Louis apart piece by piece, slowly running his hands along his waist, up his stomach and down to his ass. Louis tilts his head back to break the kiss and take a desperate breath. Jumping at the opportunity, Henry kisses along his neck again, following a new path along his throat. 

The phone next to his head is quiet other than the sound of rustling. Louis turns his head towards it, giving Henry more surface to work with, “Harry?” his voice cracks. 

“Yeah,” Harry grunts, “I’m here, baby.” 

Henry presses a kiss to his throat, “Why don’t you tell Harry how it feels?” 

Swallowing, Louis nods and turns to the phone again, “Harry,” he whines, “He’s got his entire hand wrapped around me and it’s driving me insane.” 

“Covers you right up, doesn’t it?” Louis tries to listen to his voice but gets distracted when Henry, now lowering himself along Louis’ body, pauses at his chest. Heart thudding in anticipation, Louis gasps when his nipples are enveloped in wet heat, Henry’s tongue laving and sucking at the hard buds. Louis tangles his fingers in his curls and pushes him closer, pushing his chest up against his mouth at the same time. 

Tingles start to flutter along his back and around to his stomach. Louis feels a drop of pre-come drip down and wets his stomach, “Yeah,” Louis exhales, eyes slipping shut. 

Henry chuckles at the blissed-out look on his face and continues to move down. His lower body is off the bed and he bends over Louis’ lower body, hands pressed into the mattress on either side of his hips. Louis can feel the heat of his breath against his cock and his legs twitches. Large hands caress his thighs and beneath his ass, Louis sighing into the soft touches. 

His stomach tenses when Henry cups the back of his thighs and lifts both legs to rest on either shoulder, leaving Louis completely exposed to his gaze. Louis opens his eyes wide to look down at him. Their eyes meet and Louis has to bite onto his hand to keep a loud sound from coming out at the filthy sight of Dr. Henry Cavill licking his lips between his thighs, blue eyes dark and predatory. 

“Are you enjoying yourself, baby?” Harry’s voice pulls his attention away from the devil making his home between his legs, pulling him back to earth, “You’re being a little quiet.” 

“God,” Louis moans out, stretching his hands above his head and arching his back, “Wish you were here, Harry. You should see him.” 

At the end of the bed, Henry raises an eyebrow and sucks a finger into his mouth before popping it out and leaving a damp trail along the curves of Louis’ thighs, letting the cool bedroom air chill his skin. Louis shivers at the combination of goosebumps and the feeling of Henry’s heated stare on his exposed body. 

Harry’s chuckle reverberates throughout the room, “Wish I was there too,” he says. His voice sounds tight and strained, “But I don’t think I’d be looking at him at all when you’re right there.” 

“I’d have to agree with him, dove,” Henry wraps a hand around his ankle and straightens his leg, kissing at the skin of his calf, “You are way too enticing.” 

Louis blushes at the praise and mumbles a few inaudible words, “Still,” he murmurs. 

“Still,” Henry repeats in a deep voice, “You should know what effect you have on us, Louis. Your body tells tales no man could ever speak through language,” He begins to kiss along the inner side of Louis’ leg, slowly making his way down towards his core, “If you want to relearn your own body and sexuality, you need to listen to me when I say that you are a siren unknown.” 

He’s whispering against the hot crease of his thigh, his words coming out a bit slurred and muddled against the skin, “Louis Tomlinson, you are unlike anyone else I’ve ever met,” he confesses, glancing up at him. Louis stares down at him breathlessly. 

“Doctor, let me remind you of something,” Harry interrupts, pulling their attention away from each other, “This whole thing,” he says with emphasis, “is only happening because I agreed to it. Tread lightly.” 

When Louis rolls his eyes, Henry clears his throat and shoots him a wink, “Of course, Mr. Styles,” he defers easily, squeezing one of Louis’ thighs slightly in a large hand. 

“I did want to ask how far you’d be willing to let me go with Louis,” Henry admits, “I will happily follow your lead, as will Louis, I’m sure.” Louis hums in affirmation, head starting to feel fuzzy as Henry continues to massage the muscles in his thigh. 

“What do you think, baby?” Harry asks him. 

Louis lolls his head to the side, looking at the phone, and exhales, “All the way,” without really thinking. Henry gives him a smile and a chuckle, dropping a quick kiss to his lower stomach. Harry stays quiet, though. 

He clears his throat after a few minutes of silence interspersed with Louis’ soft moans as his legs are massaged and caressed, his cock leaking steadily onto his belly, “I don’t think we’ll go all the way tonight,” Harry tells them, “But anything else is fair play, doc, as long as Louis is okay with it.” 

“Sounds good,” Henry agrees. He then turns his attention onto Louis completely, dark eyes intense, and squeezes his thigh. Hard. Louis gasps out at that, head raising a bit at the intense sensation assaulting his tender thigh, “Are you ready, dove?”

Louis watches through glazed eyes as Henry lowers himself down again, this time dropping onto his knees on the floor next to the bed. He wraps his hands around Louis’ waist and _pulls_ , dragging him across the mattress to the edge of the bed, his legs still dangling over both of Henry’s shoulders. 

“Ready,” he gasps, arms thrown above his head from the sudden movement. 

His stomach flips when Henry lowers his face to his body, kissing along the back of his thighs and the plushness of his ass, his hands always moving, massaging and squeezing. A whimper leaps out of his throat when he feels warm breath on his hole, “Harry,” he cries out, “he-” 

He breaks off into a small moan when Henry licks across the clean skin and gasps out a breath, “Oh, God.” 

“You are so beautiful, dove,” Henry rumbles below him and Louis reaches down to tangle his fingers between his curly locks, pulling him closer, “drive me absolutely mad.” 

Flushing down to his chest, Louis tugs harder and whimpers “More, please.” 

Bracing his hands around Louis’ lower back and hips, Henry raises his hips more, lifting his lower body off of the bed entirely. Through the pulsing sound of his blood pounding in his ears, Louis can barely make out Harry’s laboured breathing through the phone speaker. He reaches above his head and grabs the cellphone, pulling it down to his ear, “Harry,” he whines into it after taking it off of speaker. 

“Lou, baby,” Harry grunts, “Help me out here, baby. What’s he doing?” 

“Fuck,” Louis gasps, squeezing his eyes shut when Henry continues to tongue at his entrance, “He’s got my legs thrown over his shoulders and he’s- _ah!_ ” 

He wonders where and when Henry got the lube but he’s cut off when a slick finger begins to prod at his hole, his insistent tongue still working next to it. All thoughts fly out the window when his large finger slips in, his body tensing around it before relaxing. Louis rolls his hips back against the intrusion, trying to get it in deeper, breath coming out in small grunts. 

The feeling of his body stretching around Henry’s finger and its scrapes and presses against his walls, combined with Harry’s groans in his ear, has Louis tensing. He gasps and pulls Henry’s hair, trying to talk without speaking. Luckily the doctor seems to understand and wraps his hand around Louis’ cock, stroking in time with his thrusting finger. Louis bites his lip at the overwhelming sensations assaulting every part of him, thighs coming up and clamping on either side of Henry’s face. 

The pressure that’s been building for a while behind his belly button explodes. Louis cries out, body snapping like an elastic band, and comes all over his stomach. He hears Harry’s grunting in his ear and smiles to himself at the thought of Harry coming with him. A weird feeling of sensual power flows through his body knowing that he drove Harry to an orgasm with just his voice and words. 

Chest heaving, Louis breathlessly watches as Henry crawls over his prone body, eyes dark and pants tented obscenely. The hand holding the phone falls slack, Harry’s gasping breaths falling away from his ear, when Henry reaches for his face in both hands and pulls him in for a bruising kiss, tongue licking into his mouth and pulling the breath from his lungs. 

Louis looks up at the man above him, “Do you need…?” he trails off with uncertainty. His brain is still fuzzy with the after-effects of his orgasm, but he can still feel the hard length of Henry’s cock against his thigh, “I could.” 

“I’m alright, dove,” Henry reassures him, petting a hand through Louis’ hair, “I’ll take care of myself in a bit. Let me take care of you first.” 

Feeling his body melt into the mattress, Louis nods and smiles when Henry gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. He rolls over onto his stomach, the sound of the bath running in the background making him feel warm and fuzzy. He freezes at the sight of the iPhone face down on the bed and grabs it, turning it over in his hands and lighting up the black screen. 

Louis’ lockscreen background, a picture of him and Butterscotch asleep on the couch together, greets him. He sighs and drops his face onto the bed at that, knowing that Harry probably hung up when he dropped the phone and stopped responding. Looking at the late time, he decides against calling back, sending a thank you and sorry text instead, signing it with a sweet _I love you._

A hand against the bottom of his spine has Louis jumping and he turns his head, seeing Henry leaning over him with a gentle smile, “Come on Louis,” he says softly, “I’ve run you a bath.” 

“Join me?” Louis looks up at him and requests, “I don’t want you to go just yet.” 

The doctor hesitates but, after a minute or two, finally nods, “Of course, dove.” 

Lifting him easily, Henry carries Louis to the bathroom, setting him down on his feet next to the bath. Louis waits for him to strip, watching with hungry eyes as the skin is revealed slowly, inch by inch. His shoulders are as broad as they looked in his suits and his stomach is toned and muscled, leaving Louis slightly breathless. When he reaches for his underwear, Louis holds out a hand, stopping him. 

Henry looks up at him curiously, then heatedly, when Louis moves forward and runs his fingers along his steel abs and down to his happy trail. He rubs his hand against his adonis belt and hums happily, biting his lip, when the bulge in his boxers twitches. Flickering his eyes up cheekily, Louis dips his fingers beneath the fabric, hooking his thumbs into the waistband, and pulling them down slowly as he lowers himself to ground at the same time. 

Mirroring their earlier position in the hall, Louis finds himself on his knees again. But this time, Henry is naked as well, his impressive length swinging heavily between his legs. Louis swallows at the sight and tries to wrap a hand around it, letting out a shaky breath when the girth proves too much for his small hand. Henry grunts above him, holding himself back from thrusting his hips into Louis’ face, “Louis,” he growls. 

“Sorry,” he’s not sorry. But he lets go regardless, moving to his feet again and leaning his head between Henry’s defined pecs. He runs a hand through the hair on his chest and gives the sweaty skin a little kiss, “You have the body of a fucking god, did you know that?” 

“Thank you, dove,” he chuckles bashfully and wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders. He rocks them back and forth a bit before letting go and climbing into the hot bath, rocking the water a bit and sending it splashing across the floor. He spreads his legs and holds out a hand, steadying Louis when he climbs in after him and sits between his legs, resting his back against Henry’s chest.

“There we go,” Henry sighs blissfully.

Louis leans back, enjoying the heat of the water and the insistent pressure of Henry’s cock against his lower back. 

He swears he only shut his eyes for one second, but the next time he opens them, he’s alone in the guest bedroom’s large bed. The lights are dimmed and his body is warm and sated. 

Turning over, he finds a folded note on the side table. He picks it up, turning it over a few times before opening it up and reading it. 

_Dearest Louis,_ it reads, _I had a wonderful time this evening. I hope you don’t mind too much that I’ve put you to bed and left without saying goodbye. The hour was getting late and I had to return home as I have an early morning tomorrow._

_I look forward to our next correspondence._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Henry_

Folding the note closed and holding it to his chest, Louis sighs. How could he have predicted how the night was going to go when he invited Henry over earlier that afternoon? The chemistry and attention he felt the entire time has burned scars across his body. He falls back into the pillows. 

Turning over onto his side, he curls up into a ball and falls back asleep, a single tear slipping over the contour of his cheek and into the silk fabric beneath him. 

-

Louis is placing the last dish back in the cupboards when he feels two arms wrap around his waist. He leans back into it easily, the smell of vanilla and tobacco surround him and easing the tension in his shoulders. 

“Hi, baby,” Harry whispers into his ear. Louis turns in his arms to face him and wraps his arms around his husband’s neck. He tilts his head up expectantly and smiles into the kiss Harry gives him, playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Hi,” Louis says fondly when they separate, arms still wrapped around each other, “how was your shift?” 

“It was good,” Harry pulls back and leans against the island as Louis turns back to close the cabinets. When he’s done, he jumps onto the counter and spreads his legs, Harry moving in automatically between them and running his hands along Louis’ thighs, “Sorry I’m late.” 

Louis kisses him again, humming against his lips, “That’s okay. Did you have dinner?” 

Harry nods and fits his face into Louis’ neck, his body expanding in his arms when he inhales heavily, “I’m ready to go to bed,” he confesses, holding onto Louis’ hips tightly, thumbs rubbing gently on the inside of his thigh. 

Louis shivers when his breath tickles the side of his neck, “Why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll just finish cleaning up and join you soon, okay?” He suggests softly. 

One hand travels from his thigh to his waist in a slow caress, “That’s not exactly what I meant, baby,” Harry bites the side of his neck, right above where Henry left his darkest mark, “You’re coming with me.” 

Louis squeals and wraps his legs around Harry when he picks him up off the counter and into his arms, “Naughty!” he admonishes with a gasp and a giggle. 

“I’m not the only naughty one here, baby,” Harry accuses him, “One of us was screaming for another man only 24 hours ago and it wasn’t me.” 

Guilt stabs at his heart again and he pulls back a bit, making eye contact with Harry and opening his mouth to apologize again, only to be interrupted by his husband with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t you dare say sorry,” Harry orders him, “I told you to do it, I was there when you did, and I thought it was hot as fuck.” 

Louis licks his lips, “Really?” he asks. 

Harry stops at the bottom of the stairs and lets Louis down on his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist instead. He pulls Louis around so that he’s caged in between the railing and Harry’s leg and rolls his hips against Louis’. 

His breath catches when he feels that Harry is already hard in his pants, “You-” 

“I’ve been thinking about it all _fucking_ day, baby,” Harry admits. His voice is deep and so blazing hot that Louis can feel the heat lick across his body, “can’t get the thought of you out of my head.” 

“Fuck,” Louis blurts out, “Take me to bed, Harry, take me to bed.” 

“With pleasure, baby,” Harry grabs his hand and together they hurry up the stairs and down the hall to their bedroom. Outside the closed door, Harry pushes Louis against the wall with his body, Louis landing hands first against the surface, “Need to remind you who you really belong to.” 

He feels Harry grind his hardening cock against his ass and moans, “Harry, hurry,” he pleads. Wordlessly, Harry spins him around again and bends down to grab at his thighs, encouraging him to jump in his arms. Louis does and together they make their way into the bedroom, the double doors slamming shut behind them. 

Hours later, body sore and sated, Louis lies awake in bed next to a snoring Harry. He’s resting on his elbows, facing his husband and gently tracing his features with a fingertip. The slope of his nose and the thickness of his lips, Louis thinks, are the same as 10 years ago. But his forehead is wider, his jaw is sharper, and a few wrinkles decorate the skin between his brows. They’re all signifiers of their age and of the passing of time shared between them. Shuffling forward, Louis leans over Harry’s sleeping form and presses a long kiss to his forehead before slipping out of bed. 

He slips on a pair of leggings and limps his way downstairs, hand tightly holding the railing as he descends. Louis finishes cleaning the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts. He keeps slipping, though, images of Henry and Harry popping into his head. He shakes it off every time, eventually resorting to grabbing his phone and plugging in some earphones. 

He falls onto the couch when he’s done, Butterscotch making her way onto his lap. He sits in the dark, music still playing into his ears and pets her softly for a bit. Her purring settles him. 

He leaves the television turned off, enjoying the darkness and soft piano coming through his earphones. Louis tilts his head back on the back of the couch and breathes in slowly, thinking about how sore he’s going to be tomorrow. 

He lifts a hand and presses it to the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling along the raised bruises that litter his throat. When he reaches the spot where both Harry and Henry decided to bite deeply, he pushes a bit harder, wincing at the sharp pain. 

Thoughts race through his mind, ignoring the loud pounding of the music and breaking his barriers. Louis thinks about the fact that he’d been texting Henry all day, asking about his appointments and acting overtly-normal. He’d decided to skip their usual lunch date in fear of things being awkward after their late-night adventures. 

His heart screams at him again for declining but his brain is constantly yelling about the fact that not once today did he think about Harry.

Butterscotch meows when his phone buzzes in his pocket, climbing off of his lap and curling into the space beside him on the couch. Petting her one last time, he pulls his phone out and looks at the lit screen, brows furrowing when he sees Catherine’s name. 

He unlocks his phone, pulling up his texts. 

**Are you alone?**

Louis tilts his head, but replies nonetheless. 

_Yes, why?_

**I’m calling you.**

The screen lights up with a call, Catherine’s name stamped at the top of the screen. Louis hesitantly presses to accept the call, holding the phone up to his ear hesitantly, “Hello?” 

“Louis,” Catherine sighs, “I’m so glad I caught you before you went to bed.” 

“What’s going on?” Louis asks her, heart beating a bit faster in his chest, “What could be so urgent?” 

“Well,” she hesitates. Louis rolls his eyes, thinking about how dramatic she always is, “I was at the hospital today, visiting Sam, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Louis says, only half-listening to her ramble. 

“And I saw something that I didn’t want to keep from you,” she confesses and her nervous tone picks at his mind, making him bring his attention back onto her fully, “It’s about Harry.” 

-

Louis watches the clock tick slowly as he studiously ignores Harry’s fumbling pleas coming from the seat next to him. The clock is signaling that five minutes have passed since their scheduled appointment time and Louis grumbles under his breath about it as he pretends to check his nails. He winces when he sees their bitten and destroyed state, vowing to schedule a manicure when he gets home.

Harry finally sighs and gives up trying to talk to him after a few more minutes, getting up instead and making his way toward the water machine in the corner. He grabs a tiny paper cup and fills it, downing it like a shot and throwing the cup in the garbage nearby. 

When the clock strikes a quarter-past the hour, the receptionist, whose name Louis has learned is Marisha, comes around the corner to greet them, “Louis, Mr. Styles, Dr. Cavill will see you in his office now,” she lets them now with a professional smile. 

Louis gets up without a word and walks into the office after a brief knock, Harry following silently after him. 

Henry is standing by the door to greet them, “Good afternoon Mr. Styles,” he nods to Harry, “and a good afternoon to you, too, Louis,” he holds Louis’ hand in his and kisses the back of it softly, his eyes smiling down at him. Louis smiles back and greets him quietly before making his way over to the couch and dropping into it next to Harry, leaving a substantial amount of space between them. 

“The office looks good, doc,” Harry compliments, looking around the slightly redecorated space with an approving nod. 

“Thank you, Harry,” Henry looks at Louis with a fond smile, “It was mostly thanks to your husband. He’s been coming over a few times a week for the past month or so to help me reorganize my office. I very much enjoy his company and appreciate his dedication to the task.” 

“Ah,” Harry exhales, “So that’s what you’ve been doing.” 

“And?” Louis asks him. He crosses his arms and legs away from his husband, placing all of his attention on the confused therapist in front of him. 

“I’m sensing a bit of tension between the two of you,” he notes, “Is that correct?”

Harry throws up his hands, “For some reason, you are, doc,” he exclaims, “though I have no clue what that reason could be.” 

Louis scoffs beside him. 

“Care to comment, Louis?” Henry gives him an encouraging nod, “There’s nothing to hide here. I’m sure you’re aware but a good relationship is built on trust and communication. Let’s put that into practice, shall we?”

Louis narrows his eyes at his patronizing tone to which the doctor mouths an apology. Shrugging it off, Louis considers not answering out of spite, but he really wants to hear Harry’s explanation, “My friend called me last night,” he starts, “Her husband works with Harry, at the hospital. 

Apparently, when she went to visit him yesterday afternoon, she saw Harry and one of the female doctors looking friendly and chatting in the door to his office.” 

Harry looks at him with a dropped jaw, “Is that it?” 

“Is what it?” Louis asks him, offended, “It’s a legitimate concern!” 

Harry huffs out a bitter laugh, “How is me cheating on you a legitimate concern, Louis? When have I ever shown interest in literally anyone but you?” 

Louis uncrosses his legs self-consciously, “Well, I don’t know,” he says quietly, “But that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.” 

Harry turns to him completely grabbing onto his hand and pulling it nearer to him so that Louis uncrosses his arms, “Baby,” he says seriously, “I have never and will never look at _anyone_ like I look at you. You are so special and so perfect, not even angels could compare."

Louis blushes and looks away, eyes catching Henry’s. The therapist is looking at them with a proud smile, head resting leisurely against an open palm. 

"The woman your friend Catherine saw me with was probably Jeanine, the oncologist," Harry explains, "She's the only person I let into my office yesterday. You know her. We've had dinner with her and her wife multiple times." 

Suddenly feeling foolish, Louis can feel his hackles rise up and he pushes back against Harry’s gentle hold, “I’m not stupid,” he defends himself. He turns towards Henry, “I’m not.” 

“Louis,” Harry tries to grab his hand again, only to have Louis snatch it back, curling back into the couch, “I know you’re not stupid.” 

“Why won’t you let me work, then?” Louis asks him with a set jaw. Harry looks at him in surprise, obviously not expecting the change in subject. 

“That’s a completely different issue,” he looks to the doctor, then back at Louis, “Baby, you know why you can’t work right now.” 

“Explain it to me again,” he asks, “In front of Henry.” 

“Listen, doc,” Harry turns to their therapist, who up until then had been watching the shouting match intently, “If your partner was working at a school where a potential bomb threat happened, you wouldn’t want them to return there either, right?” 

Henry nods, considering the question, “Why not just request a transfer?” he asks. 

“Bomb threats can happen anywhere, doc,” Harry explains in a patronizing tone, “Look, I’m just trying to keep him as safe as I can.”

“I see,” Henry says, opening up the notebook in his lap a crack and scribbling in a short note, “Now what does this have to do with your cheating scandal?” 

“I wish I knew,” Harry admits with a shrug, “Sometimes his brain works a bit too fast for me.” 

“Then stop treating me like a child!” he shouts, looking between them, “Both of you. I’m not a baby and I’m not stupid.

“Of course I’m going to irrationally worry about you cheating on me!” Louis desperately tries to explain his train of thought, words coming out without thought, “I’m doing it, so what’s stopping you?” 

“Louis,” Harry says gently after his outburst, “We’ve talked about this. It’s not cheating and it’s not unfaithful. I’ve given you my explicit permission to seek a sexual relationship with Dr. Cavill.” 

“Exactly, Louis,” Henry agrees with his husband, getting up from his seat and kneeling before him, “However, if it makes you feel in any way uncomfortable, we’ll stop it here.” 

Louis hums, uncertain, “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable,” he mutters, “I guess I’m just having a hard time reconciling the fact that Harry giving his permission and then actually doing stuff with you are not mutually exclusive, if that makes sense.” 

“I understand,” Henry nods, placing a hand on his thigh, the skin heating up beneath his large palm, “I may have an idea that can help you get over the issue,” he says.

Louis bites his lip and looks at him with wide eyes, “Your tone is suggestive, doctor,” he accuses, pointing a finger. Rising slowly to his knees, Henry slowly wraps his teeth around Louis’ finger and bites down gently. His breath skips in his chest and Louis can feel his cheeks getting warm with a blush. 

He darts his eyes to the side, registering Harry’s casual body language, “You’re really okay with this?” he’s still hesitant to commit. 

“Baby,” Harry says, leaning forward and moving into his space, “I think it’s really fucking hot.” 

“You make no sense,” Louis replies breathlessly and shuts his eyes as Henry begins sucking and licking around his fingers. Harry leans in and presses a kiss to the bruised skin of his neck, the exact spot he’d played with the night before.

The skin is still sensitive from both bites and he shivers. 

-

Louis shivers as the chilled bedroom air kisses his naked skin. 

He’s kneeling alone on the bed as Henry and Harry sit opposite him in individual wingback chairs set up to face the bed head-on. They’ve both got tumblers of whiskey on the rocks in their hands and their eyes are burning hot on Louis’ cold skin. He watches them from below his lashes, unable to stop himself from drawing comparison between them, like how Harry was lankier with a more dominant air, while Henry took up more space, but his dark eyes were clouded in a soft haze. He shivers again, the little bit of alcohol in his veins buzzing around in his head. 

Harry places his glass on the table next to him and leans forward, forearms resting across his knees casually. His demeanor is anything but, Louis can’t help but note. His shoulders are tense and his chest is slightly puffed out. His fists are tightly clenched against his legs and he’s tapping his foot impatiently. 

Henry glances at him from the corner of his eye and Louis tilts his head and poses prettily, fluttering his eyelashes. He glances away, unbothered. Pouting, Louis turns to the other man in front of him. Crawling forward on to his hands and knees, he pushes his ass up in the air, “Harry,” he whines, biting his lip and reaching a hand out towards him, clawing into the comforter in a desperate display.

Harry steeples his hands above his mouth, pressing the tips of his fingers into his lips. Other than that, he shows no outward reaction. Louis purses his lips in aggravation and backs up onto his knees again, “I don’t like this lesson,” he grumbles. 

Henry leans back into the chair and loosens his tie, taking a sip of his whiskey, “You said you were up for the challenge, dove,” he reminds him, “This is all a part of learning.” 

Louis crosses his arms, lips still in a bratty pout, “I never was a good student,” he confesses cheekily, looking up at him through his lashes and tilting his head again. Henry just shakes his head at him and keeps sipping at his drink, ice clinking around in the glass. 

“I’ve tried everything!” Louis exclaims in frustration, throwing his hands up in the air, “You two are the most stubborn men I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.” 

Harry pipes up, still leaning forward towards him, “It’s because you’re only using the things you know, baby,” he advises him, “Which are, consequently, the things we know, too. It’s sexy as fuck, don’t get me wrong, but the impact is lacking.” 

Louis’ mouth drops open in shock and he crosses his arms in front of his chest, falling onto his ass, “The impact is _lacking?_ ” he cries out, “I’ll show you lacking!” 

“That’s why we’re here, baby,” Harry gives him a dirty smirk. Louis narrows his eyes at him and sticks out his tongue. 

“Let go of your inhibitions, Louis,” the therapist tells him, “You’ll find it much more freeing and easy to explore your body should you let go of any shyness or modesty you have in front of us. We’ve seen it all and trust me when I say that we very much like what we see.” 

Harry gives him a sour side-eye but nods in agreement. Sighing, Louis settles back into his knees and centers himself, wiggling around a bit, “Okay, got it,” he whispers into the quiet room, “Can one of you grab my phone?” 

He gives Harry a look when the man pulls Louis’ from his pocket, standing up and handing it over before returning to his seat. He grabs the phone and scrolls through his music, choosing a song and connecting his phone to the speakers. 

The first notes of a familiar song begin to stream through the sound system and Louis holds back a smile when Harry has to lean back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and biting a smirk into his fist. His husband shakes his head at him, mouthing the word _cruel_ and nodding his head towards the clueless man next to him. Louis deliberately ignores him. 

He moves his body along to the soft strums of the guitar, running his hands lightly down his chest and stomach, fingers pausing slightly on his nipples. Louis sighs, rolling his head back along to the beat and rolling his hips side to side. Music running through his body, his hands glide back up his torso up to his neck. He wraps his fingers around his throat, looking down at Henry and giving him a wink and a smile. 

The man is sitting in his chair, face still relatively impassive. His body, though, is tense. His hips are tight and his hand is clenched in a fist on top of the armrest. Louis gives a satisfied smile and runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head out and letting the longer strands brush the top of his back. Raising his arms up, he arches his back, waist still moving to the music. 

Harry lets out a low groan, and Louis turns his eyes to him. He lets out a soft, sensual laugh at the sight of Harry slouching in the wingback back with his legs spread wide, his palm pressed against his crotch. 

“Already?” he asks his husband.

“I’m a weak man,” Harry groans again when he notices Louis’ bright blue eyes on his, “baby, you’re too good at this,” he praises him. 

Louis lets out a delighted giggle and turns on his knees so that his back is facing both men. Hips rolling, he glides his hands along his hips and up to his ass until they rest tightly on his lower back, accentuating his small waist and large ass. He shakes his hips a little, throwing his head to the side at the feeling of his cheeks slapping against each other. 

When he looks over his shoulder with heated eyes to glance at them, Harry has taken out his cock but Henry remains frozen in his seat. His tumbler is sitting empty on the table between them, a puddle of condensation building beneath the glass. Biting his lip in frustration, Louis turns back around and decides to pull out the big guns. 

As the beat of the music builds, so does the heat in Louis’ body. Spurred on by both the reaction and non-reaction of his audience, Louis moves his body to the beat, slowing down and speeding up with the song. When the beat drops, so does he. Louis lowers his chest to the bed slowly, leaving his ass up and spread, his hole exposed for his audience. Harry groans out again and Louis smirks when he hears Henry let out a small grunt. 

He continues to dance for a bit, always facing away from them and occasionally showcasing his most private areas. Turning over, Louis lies on his back with his chest thrust forward. Slowly, teasing not only his audience but also himself, Louis runs a flat palm along his body. He rubs at his nipples for a bit, letting out a quiet moan at the tingling feeling running up and down his spine, before letting his hand continue to roam along his stomach. 

He bites his lip when he runs his fingers down his belly to his piercing, fingering it a little with a sly glance towards his men. Then, body tensing and back arching, Louis trails his hand down to his cock, palming it a bit and wrapping his hand around the modest length, covering most of it from view. He lets out a whine and kicks a foot out when Harry says, “Stop.” 

Giving the man a pout, Louis pushes his fingers further down, spreading his thighs wider and showing them as he traces his slim fingers around his hole. The dry rub is frustrating, but he doesn’t show it, pressing the tip of his finger inside and moaning out loud. 

When he realizes that he’s stopped getting a reaction from the stubborn doctor, he spins around onto his stomach again with a clenched jaw and jumps off of the bed. 

Louis walks towards them both with a determined strut, hips swaying side to side with each step. He runs his hand along Harry’s shoulders as he passes and stops in front of Henry, his lips pursed. 

“What are you doing, dove?” Henry looks up at him and asks, “We agreed to no touching.” 

Louis looks down and sighs, “We did, didn’t we?” 

Without warning he slides onto Henry’s lap, taking care to spread his legs around his thighs and sitting up enough that his ass doesn’t rest against them, “Don’t think this counts as touching, though,” he whispers with a cheeky grin. Harry grunts beside them with a low-pitched _fuck_. 

“Baby,” he says with a wrecked voice, “I know you think this is challenging for you, but it’s _fucking_ torture for me.” 

Louis turns his head towards his husband and gives him a saccharine-sweet smile, “But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Louis repeats his words back to him. Harry throws his head back against the back of the chair and twists his wrist with a moan. 

He twists back towards Henry with a gasp when the man gives a little slap to his ass, “Your hand, dove,” he warns him. Louis looks down and snatches the hand that was resting against Henry’s shoulder away, giving him a not-so-sorry look, “What’s your plan, then?” Henry asks him, leaning back with a curious roaming gaze. 

“Not too hard to figure out, I think” Louis teases him, “I’ve got nice music, got a nice lap. I’m sure you get it.” 

Henry leans an elbow against the armrest and rests his hand against his lips, “I’m not quite sure I’m following,” he plays along with sparkling eyes, “Why don’t you just show me?” 

“If you insist,” Louis agrees with a coy look. 

The music switches then to Earn This by The Weeknd and Louis closes his eyes, feeling the music flow through his limbs and into his veins. The beat is up-tempo and the lyrics are dirty, Louis thinks, it’s perfect. 

He starts to roll his body to the beat, leaning back and using his thighs to hold his upper body up without falling backward. His hands dance in the air around him, tangling through his hair and down his body. He sits up straight, coming back towards Henry while mouthing the lyrics. The doctor continues to sit unmoved beneath him, he notes with a glare. 

Stepping back, Louis stands in front of him, dropping to the floor suddenly and squatting between the man’s thighs as he continues to lip-sing. When he begins to trail a finger along the side of the chair near Henry’s hand, the man reaches out and grabs onto his wrist, giving him a raised eyebrow. Louis pulls back his hand and stands up again, turning around and settling himself into Henry’s lap with his back facing him. 

He turns his head over his shoulder and looks into the man’s eyes, grazing his teeth along his plump bottom lip. He begins to roll his hips backward, popping his lower back and sending his naked ass shaking with every thrust. Twerking, Louis leans over until his hands are placed against the floor but his ass remains in Henry’s lap.

He arches his back obscenely, blushing a bit and wanting to hide his face when he realizes that Harry is staring at him with a wide-open mouth. He turns away from his husband, focusing on exposing his desire to the doctor and wishing he would finally snap and do the same. 

He continues for a bit, feeling a bit of movement to his left and turns back to see that Henry has lifted his hand from the armrest, his physical first reaction. 

Louis uses his abs to push himself off the floor and rolls his body back into a sitting position on Henry’s thighs, still careful not to touch. He leans back again, nearly resting his head against the large shoulder behind him as he runs his hand through his messy hair, his hips always rolling back in a pantomime of riding him reverse cowgirl. 

He turns his head towards Henry’s neck and moans out his name, letting his warm breath tickle his throat. He smiles when he feels hands reach for his body, a feeling of power and victory settling in his stomach. A large hand wraps around the side of his body and Louis finally gives into his heart and leans all the way back, pressing his back and ass to Henry’s body, eyelashes fluttering when he feels his cock press into the bottom of his spine. 

“No touching,” he whispers with a giggle, “I win.” 

Louis slips easily from Henry’s lap, feeling the ghost of fingertips against his waist. Dropping to the floor, Louis crawls on all four towards a sweaty Harry. He makes sure to sway his hips with every move, arching his back obscenely and exposing himself to the man sitting behind him, whose eyes he can feel burning heat onto his skin. 

He reaches Harry, raising up onto his knees between his husband’s open legs, “Hi, daddy,” he greets him easily, eyeing his exposed cock hungrily. Not expecting the nickname, Harry drops his head back to expose his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing with his loud groan. 

“Louis,” he draws out. His cock twitches in his hand, Louis notes gleefully, the shaft standing taller and straighter than before, “fucking hell, baby, that’s so _fucking_ hot.” 

“You close?” he whispers, resting his head against the fabric of the chair between Harry’s spread thighs. When Harry nods, he rests a hand near his head and dances his fingers nearer towards his cock, “Yeah? Can I touch you, daddy?” 

“Fuck, of course, baby,” Harry gushes, taking his hand off of his cock with a hiss, “You can do whatever you want to me, right now. Fucking top me, I don’t care.” 

“Ew,” Louis retches and wrinkles his nose in distaste, “Never gonna happen, babe.” 

“Thank God,” Harry sighs when Louis wraps a delicate hand around his cock and Louis doesn’t know whether he’s referring to Louis’ rejection or the friction on his dick, but he assumes it’s both. 

Louis runs his palm up the hard length of Harry’s cock, looking up at him through his eyelashes, “Do you remember the first time we did this with Henry?” he asks quietly, “We got into a little bit of a fight because I accused you of being selfish in bed. But the truth is, I love it when you take what you want from me. I hate that I’m in charge right now,” he confesses. 

Harry runs a finger down his face, following the natural curves and contours of his defined cheekbones, “Baby,” he smirks wickedly, a twinkle appearing in his eyes, “What makes you think you’re in charge right now?” 

He cups Louis’ cheeks with a firm hand and pulls him up to meet him in a heart-pounding kiss, tongues tangling together. Harry quickly takes control of the kiss, looming over Louis’ kneeling form and licking into his slack mouth, “Thank you for telling me,” he mumbles against his lips. 

“I love you,” Louis whispers back breathlessly. 

Harry rests a large hand on one shoulder and pushes him back down to his knees, legs spread even wider around him in a dominating pose, “Well,” he tilts his head back and looks down at him with an assessing eye, “What do you think we should do with him, doc?” he turns to Henry. 

Louis stops himself from turning too, eyes stuck to Harry’s profile as they chat. A hand in his hair pushes his head down to rest his cheek against Harry’s thighs and Louis goes easily, his eyes still locked onto Harry’s face. 

“Yes,” he hears Harry say, tuning back into their conversation, “I think that’s a lovely idea, don’t you, baby?” Harry turns to him with a smirk. 

Louis licks his lips and nods, unsure what he’s agreeing to, but knowing that the two men around him want only his pleasure. He nuzzles into Harry’s thigh with that though floating through his mind, almost purring when his hand begins to card through Louis’ hair. He lets out a moan when the fingers tangle in the strands and pull hard, lifting his head and making him look up at Harry.

His husband gestures towards their third member with a nod of his head, “Why don’t you go take care of Dr. Cavill for a bit, baby?” He suggests. Louis nods at that and licks his lips in anticipation, crawling his way back to Henry on all fours, hips swaying again. 

When he reaches the doctor, he kneels in front of him submissively, “Hi,” he says, almost shy. 

“Hello, dove,” Henry replies, running a hand through Louis’ fringe with a soft touch. He presses the hand to the back of his head, inviting him closer. Again, Louis moves easily at his unspoken command, shuffling on his knees until he’s sitting between Henry’s spread thighs, “I know you’ve been wanting to do this,” he smirks, slipping a hand down to his hips and undoing his expensive belt buckle.

Louis almost drools at the sight of him opening up his trousers, pulling out his thick cock and letting it hang out, the length snaking down his upper thigh. Harry rolls their bottle of lube towards him, telling him to lube up. 

Louis watches with a dry mouth as Henry bounds down to grab the bottle, drizzling the slick substance in his hands and warming it up between his palms before wrapping a hand around his own cock and tugging a few times, his cock hardening and raising from his thigh. Louis swallows back some saliva and looks up at Henry, waiting for permission.

At his nod, Louis rises to his knees and wraps a wet hand around it, reveling in the way he has to use both to fully wrap around its girth. Resting his head against Henry’s upper thigh, Louis breathes in the scent of him and exhales slowly, eyes fluttering shut at the smell of musk and man. Nuzzling closer, Louis licks up his shaft, focusing on the base of his cock as his hands give attention to the rest of it, hand occasionally twisting around the head of it. 

The artificial medicinal taste of strawberries coats his tongue but Louis continues to wet his tongue and draw it around the base. He slowly makes his way up, replacing his mouth with a hand at the base. When he reaches the crown, Louis gives the tip a few kitten licks, rolling his eyes back at the bitter taste of pre-come. 

Henry’s hand remains tangled in the hair at the back of his nape and he pulls when Louis presses his tongue against the soft skin below the head, throwing his head back against the chair. His powerful thighs tense around Louis, who continues sucking and licking and eventually opens his mouth wide and sucks in the first few inches of the cock in his hand. 

He shuffles a bit on his knees, skin getting chaffed and sore. A pillow is thrown from across the room and Louis pops off of Henry’s dick to settle on it, hand still pumping around his length.

“Fuck,” Henry groans when Louis laves the head of his length in foamy spit, his voice deep and gravelly in contrast to the slurping and high humming sounds coming from the man on his cock, “Louis,” he grunts. 

Louis groans around his cock, throat relaxing as he tries to push a few more inches into his mouth. He gags around the head and pulls back a bit, coughing, “Louis, you don’t- _Fuck_.” Henry cuts himself off when Louis pushes forward, swallowing around half of his length in one go, throat contracting around his cock. Louis watches through glassy eyes as his hand clenches in the fabric of the armrest. 

He continues to swallow around the massive cock in his throat for a bit before pulling back and then thrusting forward again, bobbing his head and making the most sinful and dirty sounds to ever come from his throat. 

He pulls back entirely when he feels two hands massaging his ass, turning back and seeing Harry kneeling behind him. The man gives him a smirk, nodding at him to return to his task, which he does with no complaint. 

He sighs into it when he feels the first press of wet fingers against his ass, circling slowly around the furled rim of his hole. He chokes around Henry’s cock when Harry thrusts two fingers into his hole to start, body spasming at the welcome intrusion. 

The man in front of him pulls him in more, making Louis choke again on a few more inches of cock being desperately forced down his throat. Louis moans at the feeling, the vibrations travelling around it and causing the hand in his hair to tighten. 

“Yeah, baby,” Harry whispers into his ear as he bends his body over Louis’, his cock pressed against Louis’ crack and his chest to his back, “You’re doing so well, Louis, taking that fucking monster like a pro. I trained you well, didn’t I?” 

And it’s complete bullshit, because Louis knew well how to suck down a huge cock before he ever even met Harry, but he can feel himself tear up at the praise, either way, throat working and cock getting harder. The heavy press of Harry against him only stokes the flames in his stomach further. 

Henry hisses when the defined muscles tense and jump, tearing Louis off of his cock suddenly, “Fuck,” he gasps, “You are a fucking dream, dove.” 

Louis blushes at that, kneeling up when Harry wraps an arm around his stomach and pulls lightly. He turns his head to his husband, looking up into his burning eyes. Harry looks back down at him and presses his free hand to Louis’ jaw, turning his head further and connecting their lips. He pushes his tongue into Louis’ mouth, exploring the unfamiliar taste and setting his claim. 

When he pulls back, Louis, dizzy with lack of oxygen, falls onto his ass between them, “What now?” He asks eagerly. 

Harry nods at Henry, who picks him up and carries him across the room, placing him gently on the mattress and then climbing up beside him. Harry follows behind them, sitting on the edge of the bed and carding his hand through Louis’ damp locks. 

“What do you think about going all the way, baby?” Harry asks him softly, “With Henry.” 

Louis shivers at the question, goosebumps appearing on his arms and legs in anticipation. His cock twitches against his belly and both men chuckle darkly at his obvious eagerness, “Yes, please,” he whines, body writhing against the silk sheets. 

“Alright, dove,” Henry cuts in then, nodding at Harry, “Get in the middle of the bed, on your back.” 

Louis scrambles up to his knees and situates himself in the middle of the mattress on his back, the sheets fresh and cool against his damp skin. He looks up at Henry with bright eyes as the man takes the lube from Harry again and coats his fingers. He brings them to Louis’ ass and runs them up and down the length of his crack, pressing against his hole a bit with each pass and making Louis gasp every time. 

Henry leans over him, hand still between his legs and kisses his nipples, licking and sucking at the plush skin around them, getting closer to the middle with every press of his lip. When he reaches the hollow of his throat, Henry chuckles, “Feels a bit familiar, doesn’t it?” he reminisces, referring to their phone call with Harry. Louis shivers and nods, the feeling of his thick finger in his ass flashing through his mind. 

Apparently, Henry was thinking about it, too, because he pushes one in, then. The thick finger breaches his slightly loose hole, pressing against his walls and massaging the rim. When Louis relaxes into it, his body opening up, he adds a second finger, and then a third. Moans fall freely from Louis’ throat as Henry finds his prostate, occasionally teasing him and pressing his fingers against it. 

Thrusting his fingers one final time into his body and pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves and making Louis convulse with pleasure beneath him, Henry pulls his hand out of Louis. He whines and wraps his legs around the man’s waist to keep him near. 

Henry massages a large hand against his thigh, pressing into the soft skin and running his fingers against the small tattoo on his thigh, “Come on baby,” he soothes a desperate Louis, “Let me go so I get inside sooner.” 

Biting his lip at the tempting offer, Louis slowly unwraps his legs and spreads them open, bent at the knees, on either side of Henry’s body. He watches as Henry tears open a condom, rolling it quickly and lubing it up. He looks up at Louis from beneath hooded lids and considers him for a second, then twists a finger, “Turn over onto your knees, dove,” he orders. 

Louis obediently turns over onto his knees, dropping onto his elbows and raising his ass, “Like this?” he asks coyly, sending a smirking Harry a conniving grin. 

Henry swallows audibly and runs a reverent hand along his ass, pushing a finger into his hole again. Louis moans and kicks a foot out at him, “Hurry,” he whines. 

Harry chuckles next to them, “I think you need something to occupy that mouth, baby,” he teases, shuffling onto the bed and kneeling in front of Louis, his own impressive cock already hard and leaking. Louis licks his lips and nods, opening his mouth sweetly and humming around the familiar taste and heavy weight of Harry on his tongue. 

The sudden press of something warm and solid against his whole has Louis tensing a bit before relaxing into it. Henry grabs his hips with both hands, fingers digging bruises into his skin. He let out a groan the deeper he sinks into Louis’ heat, body tense and holding from thrusting in. Louis has dropped to the mattress, Harry’s cock falling from his mouth and bobbing in the air above his head, “Fuck,” he whimpers.

Harry grabs his chin and pulls him back up, tapping the head of his cock against Louis’ slack mouth before pushing it back in at the same time that Henry’s hips meet Louis’ ass, sending him jolting forward and choking around Harry’s cock. 

He whimpers around the thick length in his mouth, sending teasing vibrations up Harry’s spine and making him squeeze Louis’ jaw tightly in his hand, “Shit, baby,” he grunts, “You like that?” 

Louis nods as much as he can with a mouth full of cock, eyes tearing up at the feeling of being so full at both ends. Henry groans deep in chest behind him, his hips pulling back slowly and pushing him forward on Harry’s cock again. 

He speeds up his thrusts when he realizes that Louis is starting to push back, jostling the bed. The headboard slams against the wall, creating a cacophony of sounds as he fucks into Louis’ body. He runs a hand along his spine until he reaches his head, tangling his fingers in his hair again and tugging his head back, bowing Louis’ back and making his eyes roll back. 

Harry lowers the hand around his jaw to wrap around his neck, feeling his cock spear in and out, creating a bulge in his throat. Louis scrapes his teeth against the side of his shaft when he pulls out on a thrust, sending Harry closer to the edge and making him thrust on an off-beat, making Louis choke again. 

“Careful,” Henry growls at him. He lets go of Louis’ hair and lets him fall back onto Harry’s cock.

Harry sneers back at him, balls pressed against his chin as he holds his cock in his throat, Louis convulsively swallowing around him, “Don’t tell me how to fuck my husband, doc.” 

“Pretty sure that’s part of my job description,” Henry grunts out with a smug smile. The hand around his hip curls around to the front and wraps around Louis’ cock. A keening scream builds in his chest as the heat in his core burns brighter. 

“Is fucking Louis part of your job description, too?” Harry asks him, squeezing around Louis’ throat slightly before letting go and pulling his cock out. Louis gasps, inhaling much-needed air into his lungs. He wraps a hand around Harry’s thigh and keeps him close. 

Harry pulls back enough to slap his cock against Louis’ cheek, pre-come leaving a sticky trail against his skin. Louis opens his mouth, desperately trying to catch the head of his cock between his lips and suck him down again, but Harry keeps pulling back, teasing him after every wet slap of his dick against Louis' face. Eventually, he grows bored and pushes his length back into Louis' mouth all the way, pressing his hips to his face and cutting off his air supply. Louis looks up at him through wet lashes and begs him with his eyes to fall over the edge. 

Harry pulls out a bit and wraps a large hand around his cock and strokes it a few times. He grunts and falls forward, come shooting into Louis' open mouth and across his face. 

"Don't swallow, yet," Harry orders him. Louis looks up at him with glazed over eyes, obediently following his order.

Sending the doctor a smirk, Harry bends over and grabs Louis by the back of the neck, pulling him up so that his back is pressed against Henry’s chest. His sticky chest meets Harry’s as his husband looms over him. 

Pulling his head backwards, Harry lets a glob of spit fall from his lips into Louis’ mouth. Louis’ eyes white out as he swallows and he lets his head fall back against Henry’s shoulder as the man thrusts up into him, his cock hitting all of the right spots in this position. 

The hand around his cock grows frantic as Henry nears his climax, thrusts following the same pattern. He pushes Louis down, hand pressed against the middle of his back as he holds him down and fucks wildly into Louis’ squirming body. Grunts falling from his throat, Henry presses his hips harshly against Louis’ ass, fingers bruising and harsh as he comes into the condom. 

Louis follows soon after, vision blurring and stars exploding around him as he comes. They both fall slack, landing on the mattress with weak bones and buzzing blood. Harry watches from his seat at the head of the bed, a wet towel ready in his hand and some fruit and water on the table next to the bed.

Henry holds onto the condom as he pulls out, his other hand slowly running down the length of Louis’ back, stopping to press into the bruises on his hips and making Louis moan weakly.

Together, they all clean each other up, changing into freshly laundered pajamas, and crawling under the covers together. All the while, Louis stays by Henry’s side, making sure to make him feel wanted and included. He wraps his arm around the man’s bicep when they all lie in bed, Harry plastered to Louis’ back, already snoring. 

“Thank you for this,” Louis says with a blissed-out smile. 

“I hope you see what we do,” Henry whispers down to him, running a large finger down the side of his face. Louis watches it from the corner of his eyes and bites his lip. 

“I think I do,” he confesses.

They fall asleep tangled together in fresh sheets. 

Hours later, Louis stirs awake.

Sleepless, he lies in bed on his back, listening to the men on either of his sides breathe heavily and evenly. 

Louis rolls over, bumping his face into Henry’s chest. The man wraps a muscled arm around his waist and pulls him in closer in his sleep. Or so Louis thinks at first, He runs a hand through the thick hair on his chest, pressing an open palm against the thump, thump, thumping of his heart, “What are you thinking about?” Louis whispers. 

Henry cracks an eye open with a sleepy, guilty smile. He sighs and pulls Louis in closer, “What could be,” he confesses just as quietly, his deep voice rumbling in his chest against Louis’ ear. 

Louis doesn’t need to ask him what he means. He just nuzzles in closer and wraps an arm around his waist, falling back asleep within minutes. 

-

“Louis!” 

Shocked, he looks up from the ground and watches as Harry opens the door and runs out the house towards Louis as he’s walking up the drive with a bag of groceries, “Louis!” he shouts with an excited grin, making his way closer in a terrible skip. 

“Don’t worry, I got you cream cheese,” Louis reassures him with a laugh, squealing with Harry grabs the bag from his arms and spins him around on the front lawn, “What has gotten into you?” he giggles. 

“I got it,” Harry breathes with the brightest smile, “I got the promotion.” 

Louis is suddenly so glad that Harry grabbed the groceries from him because his entire body goes slack before he realizes what Harry said means. His hands come up to cover his mouth in a gasp, “Oh, my God! Harry!” He jumps into Harry’s open arms, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck, “I’m so happy for you!” 

He feels Harry smile into his neck, breathing happiness on his skin, “It’s all been worth it, baby,” he whispers. 

Louis pulls back a bit, looking up at Harry with a confused look, “What has, babe?” 

“All of those extra hours, the surgeries, every time one of the surgeons would fight me on what I said, every second that I wasn’t with you, baby,” he explains, his hands tightening around Louis’ waist at the memories, “everything was for this.” 

Louis runs a soothing hand along his bicep, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the dip between his pecs, “You did so well, Harry,” he says, quiet and intense, “We made it through alright, I think.” 

“This,” Harry says, nodding to himself, “this is the perfect time to pull this out, I think.” 

“Harry?” Louis steps back a bit confused when Harry lets him go and starts rifling through his pockets. He tilts his head, bemused, “What are you doing?” 

“Well,” Harry chuckles sheepishly, “I thought I kept it in these pants, but it may be in my- oh! No, here it is,” Pulling a small flower from his inner jacket pocket, Harry moves forward again and hands it over with a flourish, “For you, my dear.” 

Louis smiles at him and accepts it, twirling the stem between his fingers and giving a little curtsey, “Why, thank you, kind sir.” 

Harry grabs his fingers in his, holding them in his palm gently, as if Louis is a precious jewel, “Louis,” he calls his attention with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, “I wanted to say something.” 

Placing the flower behind his ear, Louis allows Harry to take his other hand, holding his fingers similarly between his own. Standing face to face in their front yard, surrounded by burgeoning flowers and towering trees, Louis can’t help but feel as though he’s in a movie. 

“I,” Harry starts with a shaky breath, “I have loved you for ten long, long years. We’ve been through hell and back, yet every time we come back, it’s only made us stronger than we were before,” Louis tilts his head back and forth in a so-so motion Harry sticks his tongue out at him before moving on, “With this promotion, the stress that we face won’t be a problem anymore. I’ll take care of you and always be there for you, I swear on my life. You make me a better person, baby. I don’t know who I would be without you. 

I can’t imagine myself without you by my side.”

He falls down to kneel on one knee before him, bringing a small velvet box out of his pocket, and Louis feels his throat close. 

“So, please marry me again,” Harry proposes.

Louis falls to his knees gasping, joining Harry on the hard stone floor.

“Oh, my God,” he feels his lungs constrict around each desperate breath he takes, chest stuttering and vision going fuzzy at the edges, “Harry-”

“Baby,” he drops the velvet box to the ground and grabs both of Louis’ shoulders in a tight grip, centering him, “Everything I do, I do you for us. For _you_. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how I could better express my adoration for you, but, baby, this is all I’ve got.” 

“Harry,” he gasps out a sob, “I-” 

“Shh,” he gentles, rubbing his hands up and down Louis' arms, “I am so fucking sorry that you ever went more than one second thinking that I wasn’t completely and utterly mad for you,” Louis hates that he can see his eyes getting red and wet, wanting nothing more than to reach out and swipe the building tears from them, “I would move the moon and stars for you, Louis Tomlinson.” 

Louis shakes his head, one hand pressed over his quivering lips, overwhelmed by the feeling of pure love coming from Harry on his knees in front of him. 

“I know you probably don’t believe me-” Harry starts. 

Louis cuts him off, throwing his arms around his neck and pressing their lips together messily. The kiss is wet with Louis’ tears and he shuffles forward onto his knees, getting as close as he can to his husband, “I believe you,” he says into the kiss, “I just can’t say yes right now.” 

Harry pulls back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. A tear falls, dripping down his cheek onto the cobbled stone beneath them, “What?” he breathes out.

“I can’t say yes,” Louis repeats in a broken whisper, “Not when I know that Henry is also waiting for me.” 

“Louis,” he shakes his head as if to clear it, “What are you talking about? I’ve told you before, I can’t share you like that. Besides, he’s just our therapist.” 

“No,” Louis whimpers, “He’s really not.” 

“W-what are you saying?” Harry stutters out, face going red with some unnamed emotion, “You’d rather have him than me?” 

“Damn it, Harry,” Louis grabs his face between his hands and forces him to make eye contact, “I am so fucking in love with you. I would face every evil on earth if it meant that I got to be with you,” he confesses with a hard voice that brooks no room for arguments, “I just really need to talk to Henry. I can’t leave it like this.” 

“Leave _what_ like this, Louis?” Harry demands from him, “Talk to me, for God’s sake.” 

Louis bites his lip, debating whether or not he should explain to Harry about the way Henry built him up from nothing. About how the man cared for him when he thought nobody else did. How he taught him to love himself again. 

He thinks about their first meeting and the instant connection they shared, bantering over small things and laughing easily. Their deep conversations over cups of steaming hot tea and intimate touches when they would trade books or recipes. 

The heated looks he would give Louis whenever he thought the man wasn’t watching. But he always was, and they would always share a secret smile about it. The longing touch that lingered at the bottom of his spine when Henry pulled out for the first and last time and the deep kiss he gave him when he left the following morning. A goodbye kiss, he realizes now. 

He thinks about the past three months and how Henry was there for him whenever Harry wasn’t. 

Shaking his head, Louis just smiles sadly, “I owe him everything, Harry.” 

-

“Louis?” the receptionist calls out, making eye contact with him and smiling gently, “Dr. Cavill will see you in his office now.” 

“Thank you, Marisha,” he smiles at her as he passes, knocking on the door before opening it up and slipping inside. 

He closes the door behind him and rests his back against it, looking around the office like it’s his first time seeing it. The dark wood furniture is the same as it was three months ago, gleaming and strong against the cream accents. The sheer curtains blow in the spring wind let in through open windows and Louis closes his eyes and breathes the breeze in. 

When he looks at the office again, it’s with new eyes. He notices the new pillows on the couch, ones that he helped pick out by spamming Henry’s texts with numerous links to online decorating stores. The rug is one he’d wanted to get rid of from home, donating it to Henry and telling him that the office needed a lady’s touch. Henry had just smiled and accepted gracefully, offering to pay him for it and insisting when Louis had waved him off. 

That’s when he notices that the office is empty aside from himself.

Looking around, Louis doesn’t see Henry anywhere in the room. He walks deeper inside, tilting his head a bit in confusion. He’s standing in the middle and turning in a slow circle when he hears the sink start to run in the office’s attached bathroom. 

Taking the opportunity, he skitters around the large desk in the middle of the office, biting his lip and snooping around the mess that Henry never let him touch. He finds some printed journals and poems, tossing them aside without much further inspection. The computer is locked and he doesn’t even try to unlock it. 

Then he finds the framed photo on the desk and feels his heart clench in his chest.

It’s a photo of them. Louis remembers the moment it was taken, thinking back to the elderly woman that had stopped them in the street and asked if they wanted a photo with Big Ben in the background. Looking at each other and shrugging they had accepted and posed with winning smiles, Henry’s arm hooked around Louis’ waist. 

The woman had given Henry’s phone back with a slightly sly smile and a compliment, telling them that they made a beautiful couple. Louis had blushed and stammered, trying to correct her but Henry had only smiled and thanked her before pulling Louis along by the hand. 

Louis blushes just thinking about the fact that their hands hadn’t left each other the entire walk back to the office. Biting his lip, he picks up the frame and turns it over in his hands. He pauses when he sees that the back of the frame is detailed with Sharpie. The date of the picture is written down, but so is a short note. 

Sparing another glance around the room and listening for the running sink, Louis takes his chances and reads. 

_Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks_

_Within his bending sickle’s compass come:_

_Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,_

_But bears it out even to the edge of doom-_

“What are you doing?” a familiar posh accent asks. Louis gasps and drops the frame, the wood falling against the desk and clattering loudly in the silent room. 

“Nothing!” Louis replies automatically, turning around and acting casual. He leans against the desk and picks up a random sheet of paper behind his back. “Just some light reading,” he lies. He brings his hand out and shows the paper in his grasp, as if to prove that he was really reading it. 

He bites his lip in shame when he notices that it’s a blank sheet. 

Henry remains unconvinced, “I see,” he says, moving in closer, “and all of that noise just noise, that was the rest of the essay you’re holding, is that correct?” 

Louis digs himself a deeper hole to lie in and nods. 

Henry just shakes his head and sighs with a fond smile on his lips. He cages Louis against the desk, both hands on either side of his hips, “Did you enjoy the topic?” his deep cadence vibrates through Louis’ body, leaving his core shaken, “I’ve been doing a lot of research recently into the subject.” 

“Huh?” Louis’ eyes flicker from where they were on Henry’s plush lips up to his amused eyes. He blushes at being caught out and presses against the man’s chest, “Oi, move, you oaf.” 

Henry grabs onto his hand, the fingers of his larger hand completely smothering Louis’. Bringing it up to his mouth, he kisses the top of his gently like a gentleman and whispers, “ _If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved._ ”

Thrown off by the sudden poetry, Louis looks up at him with a confused look. 

Henry chuckles, “The end of the poem you were reading. Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116. I’ll admit it’s rather cliche, but what can I say, I’m a romantic at heart.” 

Louis stands before him, stunned and flushed to the tip of his ears, “You wrote a Shakespeare sonnet on the back of a picture of us?” he can only think to ask. Henry only shrugs and nods, looking a bit bashful in the warm light of the office. Louis just stares up at him, speechless. 

The curtains blow in the breeze behind him.

Clearing his throat, Henry steps back and lets go of his hand, leaving it empty and cold, “Why don’t we take a seat and we can start our session?” he suggests with a tight smile. 

Louis can feel the air begin to shift around them as Henry tries to pull them into a professional setting where they can set aside the strong feelings between them and pretend that none of it exists. Louis just shakes his head, “I don’t think we should have a session today,” he admits. 

Henry turns back to him with a raised eyebrows, “Are you alright, dove?” he walks back towards him and presses a cool hand against his forehead, “You’re a little warm, but it’s not a fever,” he notes, voice serious. He cups Louis’ face with his hands and tilts his head back against the light, looking into his eyes with clinical detachment. 

“I’m not sick,” Louis tells him, “I mean, not in the way you think.” 

Henry’s hands tighten around his head a bit before pulling away slowly, his fingertips dragging across Louis’ cheeks, “How do you mean, then?” 

“My anxiety might be getting the better of me,” Louis confesses, “It’s probably easier to just tell you and rip off the band-aid but I really don’t want to,” his voice quivers and his eyes burn. 

“Louis,” it’s all he says and it’s all he has to say, Louis knows that Henry knows why he came to their session instead of calling him to cancel, “Dove,” he pleads. 

“I think it’s best if we stop the sessions altogether,” he rips it off, heart bleeding like an open wound in his chest, “and I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” 

There’s something rotting where his heart should be, sucking up any happy air that surrounded them. Louis can feel tears flowing down his own cheeks, getting sucked into the black hole that has become his heart. 

Henry grabs his hand tightly in both of his, so tight it feels as though he’ll never let go, “Louis, please,” he begs, “my darling dove, please don’t leave me.” 

“I have to,” Louis tells him, voice breaking, “You _knew_ this was going to happen. You were the one that encouraged us and fixed us from the broken pieces we were when you found us. You can’t ask that of me, Henry. You can’t.” 

“I know, darling,” Henry presses the small hand in his against his forehead, head bowed as if praying to God for forgiveness, “I know I have no right to plead with you, but I will. Because there’s nothing else I can do. My entire being belongs to you.” 

“Stop,” Louis braces a hand against the desk behind him, knees weak, “Please don’t.” 

He pets a shaking hand through silky curls and cries silently, eyes shut and refusing to watch the shaking form of the man before him breaking into a million pieces.

Bending over, he presses his lips to the crown of his head, “I’m so sorry, Henry,” he whispers against his hair, “I love you so much.” 

“Please,” the man pleads again, head still facing down towards the floor, “don’t.” 

“I have to,” Louis tells him, eyes sore and cheeks red. 

“No,” he interrupts, “Don’t tell me you love me. It only makes it hurt more.” 

“You deserve to know. You deserve to know that you saved me from the darkest place,” Louis starts, pushing lightly against his bent forehead. Henry looks up, face set. His eyes gleam with unshed tears and his lips are a dark red. “You are my guardian angel, my best friend, my soulmate. But sometimes, these things aren’t meant to last forever.” 

“Sometimes they are,” Henry argues weakly in his arms. 

“Sometimes they are,” he concedes, “But not this time.” 

Louis raises onto his toes and presses their lips together. Neither of them move, silently enjoying the final feeling of intimacy shared between them. Sighing, Louis drops back down to his feet and nods, “This is it, then.” 

Henry places a hand against his arm, stopping him from moving away. Louis looks up at him warily, “May I confess something to you?” Henry asks him urgently. 

Louis nods. 

“I’ve never slept with any of my clients before you and the reason I held out so long with you was because I felt that as soon as I took some form of pleasure from our relationship, we would be passing boundaries that I didn’t know I had set up,” he whispers, “You’ve absolutely ruined me for anyone else, Louis Tomlinson.” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“I guess you could say I got a bit engrossed in my work,” he tries to joke.

Eyes locked together, Louis squeezes his hand gently before pulling away, their fingers staying tangled together until Louis is too far to touch, “Goodbye, Dr. Cavill,” Louis bids him. 

“Adieu, Louis,” Henry replies, eyes blinking against his tears.

-

Shutting the front door behind him, Louis slips off his shoes and numbly makes his way through the large house. Butterscotch, realizing that Louis is home, quickly joins him, trotting alongside him. He smiles down at her, lips turned up but eyes sad. She meows when she notices him looking at her, pawing lightly at his leg. 

He bends down and picks her up into his arms, rocking her like a baby and kissing the top of her head with ferocity. The fur at the top of her head gets damp when a few tears escape. Breathing in, he pushes back the overwhelming feeling of grief and continues his journey to the bedroom. 

Throwing the door open and leaving it that way behind him, Louis sets Butterscotch down gently on the carpet before throwing himself onto the bed and curling up in the sheets. Holding back the sobs, he forces himself to breathe in his and Harry’s smell, the scent of their detergent and the slippery sensation of their silks sheets against his cheeks. 

The bathroom door opens and Harry walks out. 

Sitting up, Louis looks at him in shock, “Why aren’t you at work?” he asks and his voice cracks in the middle of the sentence. He studiously ignores it, focusing on Harry’s approaching figure. 

Harry climbs into bed next to him and lies on top of the sheets, turning to look at Louis with a sympathetic smile, “Thought you could use some company,” he explains, “I know it couldn’t have been easy.” 

Louis snorts, “You don’t even know,” he says. 

“I don’t,” Harry agrees with him, “and I don’t really want to know, but I do want to tell you how honoured I am that you made this decision. God this is probably the absolute worse time for this but,” 

He rolls over Louis, hovering above him slightly and locking their eyes together, “I promise to make you the happiest and most confident man in the world, if it’s the last thing I ever do,” he swears, “I love you with my entire heart and soul, baby. Please do me the most gracious honour of marrying me again.” 

Louis laughs wetly, “You don’t even have the ring.” 

“No! No, I do, I swear,” Harry digs through his pockets and pulls out the ring, void of the velvet box it was in before. He dusts it off and polishes it against the fabric of his track pants and holds it up for him, eyes wide and earnest, “Will you marry me?” 

Louis nods and laughs, throwing his arms around Harry’s neck and pulling him into a tight hug, “Yes.” 

“Thank fuck,” Harry breathes against his neck, wrapping his long arms around Louis’ waist and holding on tight. 

“Not right away, though,” Louis tells him seriously, pulling away slightly, “I need time and I think you do, too.” 

“Louis,” he whines, “I just want to kiss you at the altar and call you mine again.” 

Louis smiles and kisses his lips, chuckling at his tantrum, “I’ve always been yours,” he says, “You’ve just had to share me a bit, and now I need time to recover those pieces and prepare myself to give them away again, get it?” 

His eyes soften and Harry presses their lips together softly, running a gentle hand through his soft hair and sending shivers down Louis’ spine, “I get it, baby. I’ll wait as long as you want.” 

“I love you,” Louis tangles their hands together and brings them up, pressing them between their chests. He can feel Harry’s heartbeat through their hands. The staccato thumping matches his own and he takes comfort in knowing that though he may have lost one soulmate, he’s also managed to save another from disappearing from his life altogether. 

“Love you, too, baby,” Harry presses his lips against Louis’ closed eyelids. 

Louis sighs happily. 

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative ending: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311187/chapters/55973803


End file.
